Persona: M-Path
by Ari Moriarty
Summary: Original Persona story. The street drug called M-Path is helping the students of the Iwasaki Arts Academy learn to "feel, just feel." When the side-effects of the drug begin to rear their ugly head, and humans begin turning into the zombie-like "Driven," it's up to one ragtag bunch of would-be performers to find their inner strength and set their friends free.
1. Author's Preface

**Author's Preface: **So I know from looking around a bit that original storylines don't tend to do very well on this website, but I really wanted to give it a try. Actually, before I started even writing fanfiction, I had this idea floating around in my head, and after making outlines and stewing about it for ages, I think I'm going to try writing it down. It won't update daily – not even close. I'll still be putting most of my focus and energy into my regular, canon-based persona series, which I'm loathe to give up. Still, this is a new experiment that intrigues me, and as the summer's coming up, when better to give it a try?

The following story, while it takes place in the world of persona, and using the magic of persona, is original. That means, all of the characters and situations, other than our beloved Velvet Room staples, will be original, and so you won't find SEES or the Investigation Team here. I hope that you give it a chance anyway, and that you look at it as a brand new and innovative foray into the world of persona that we have all come to know and love.

Thanks for taking the time!

Sincerely and enthusiastically,

Ari Moriarty


	2. Prologue

**Prologue**

Hiromi Endo came to her senses blurrily, in a room that she didn't immediately recognize. Everything around her, including walls, furniture, ceiling, and even the eerie light shining out of overhead ceiling fixtures seemed somehow tinted blue. There were lush blue carpets and blue-gilt frames hanging from the walls…and the walls, she realized, were rocking slightly, as though they were moving, and moving so fast that her feet had failed to feel it through the floor.

In the center of the room was a large blue swivel chair, and as it spun around, Hiromi found herself looking into the craggy face of an elderly man with huge, peering eyes, and a very long nose, so long that it seemed ridiculous and disproportionate, standing out hideously among the rest of his features.

For some reason, that made Hiromi feel a bit safer, for a moment. If there was ugliness here, then there was humanity. Ugliness was imperfect, humans were imperfect, and so this was, inevitably, something simple that she could understand.

_This is a dream_, she decided calmly. _I'm having some sort of strange dream about blue people. Wow, that's different. Why blue, I wonder? _

"Welcome to the Velvet Room," intoned the long-nosed man.

_Blue velvet,_ thought Hiromi absently. _Isn't there a song about blue velvet? Or was that the name of a race horse? Why do I know that?_

"I've been waiting for you for some time," continued the man. "It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. You are the first guest that we have entertained in many years."

_The Mystery of the Blue Train,_ realized Hiromi. _That's what I was reading before bed last night, right? That's gotta be it…so, is this a blue train? Not exactly what trains really look like on the inside, but then, I guess it is a dream, and dreams never look much like real life. Except this guy…he's real. He looks real. Weird, the way dreams work. _

"This is a dream, isn't it?" she asked.

The old man smiled, inclining his head in a slight nod. "Ah, very good," he murmured, looking extremely pleased. "Yes, indeed, I have summoned you hear within your dreams, to allow you to remain fast asleep in the real world."

Hiromi wasn't quite sure to make of that. Summoned? He had "summoned" her? _Oh well_, she decided. _At least I'm not missing out on any sleep…got a test tomorrow. I'll need the rest…and all the help I can get._

"What's your name?" she asked.

"My name," the old man informed her, "is Igor. Please, be so kind as to introduce yourself."

"Oh, um…" Hiromi cleared her throat. "I'm sorry. I guess I thought that if this was my dream, then you must, uh, already know who I am. That's how you 'summoned' me, right?"

The old man, apparently named Igor didn't say anything. He just sat there with a frozen expression of polite inquiry stamped on his face.

Hiromi blinked. "Hiromi Endo," she said, making a little bow. "May I…ask a question?"

"Certainly," murmured Igor.

Hiromi frowned. "Why," she asked, "am I dreaming about you?"

At that, Igor chuckled. At least, Hiromi thought it was a chuckle. The laugh didn't really match the unwaveringly, nerve-wrackingly intense look in the old man's eyes. "An excellent question," he told her, "if a bit…unexpectedly phrased."

"We're here to warn you," came a soft, higher-pitched voice from somewhere just behind Igor's chair. As Hiromi watched, a small boy stepped out of the vague blue shadows and into the strange blue light. He was dressed in a weird, futuristic kind of waiter or butler's outfit. It, of course, was blue. His face was young, thought Hiromi, and he probably couldn't have been much older than twelve or thirteen.

_Why am I dreaming about preteen boys?_ She asked herself. _Ew. Not cool, subconscious, not cool at all…_

The boy, Hiromi realized, was staring at her. At first, she was almost flattered, until rational kicked in, and she realized that he was probably staring at the scars. People often did stare at the scars. There were sunken and jarred places on her face where bits of glass from the wreckage of a totaled car had sliced away at the skin, and she still sported a slight limp in her left leg after the damage to the bone that the accident had cause. Cosmetic damage only, really, if you didn't count the slightly dragging foot, but it did make people stare. She kept her curly hair long, and wore glasses instead of contacts to try to hide the facial damage a little, and she never noticed it when she looked in the mirror, but apparently the rest of everybody did. It made her look older, a little, and not in a good way. It made her look older in a tired way, the way sick people looked older.

Belligerently, Hiromi stared back.

Igor nodded at the boy. "Forgive me," he murmured. "I seem to have failed in my introductions. This is my assistant, Daniel. He, also, eagerly pledges his service to you in the course of your quest.

"Quest? What kind of quest?" Idly, Hiromi wondered if she had time for a quest, tonight. How did time pass, in dreams, and if she went out questing, would she wake up in time to make it to school? What if she slept through her alarm?

"You're in danger," said the boy, curtly. He had a strange, clipped, abrupt way of speaking that snapped Hiromi out of her reverie and back to attention on this quest thing. "You're going somewhere. Somewhere that bad things happen. You're gonna need us. Otherwise, you could get hurt. They could, too. They all could."

"Who are 'they?' Why would I get hurt? Listen, back up a minute, I don't understand." Hiromi shook her head. "What's this quest all about? And where's this place that I'm going? I'm not going anywhere, I'm just-!"

Suddenly, the stillness of the room was interrupted by a piercing wail. Hiromi froze, shocked, and it took her a minute to recognize the noise as that of a police siren.

"It seems," intoned Igor, "that our time here is at an end. Please do not be alarmed. When again you need us, you will find a way to visit us of your own accord. Farewell, honored guest. I look forward to meeting you again."

Hiromi opened her mouth to ask more questions, as they began to flood through her brain, spurred on and exacerbated by the rising sound of the sirens.

"Hey, wait-!" she began.

Before she had a chance to finish the thought, however, the blue room turned into a blue blur, and everything got hazy as Hiromi got dizzy. Before she knew it, she was waking up, this time for real, in her own little bed in her decidedly not-blue bedroom. There were the same familiar photographs on the wall, the same old, childhood teddy bear at the foot of the bed, the same cat curled up in its basket on the floor.

"Phew," she muttered. "That was...different. A quest, huh? I wonder how it would have turned out if I'd kept dreaming…"

It was only then that she realized that the sirens were still blaring, and when she turned to look out her window, she saw the three police cars parked right outside the front of her house. One of the car doors opened, and a uniformed man clambered out. He had a gun.

Something was wrong, very wrong. Hiromi slid her legs over the side of the bed, and struggled to her feet.

"Dad?" she called. "Dad? There are policemen outside. What's going on?"


	3. Chapter One: She's a Real Knockout

**INTRODUCTION - Characters and Critics**

**Chapter One: She's a Real Knockout**

**Three Months Later…**

Hiromi stepped off of the train at five minutes after noon, and looked at her watch. She took a deep breath, heaved her heavy duffle back up over one shoulder, set her jaw, and started off on foot, following the signs that pointed, apparently, towards the "Iwasaki Arts Academy."

She wasn't enthusiastic about this trip, this school, or this experience. It wasn't that she was particularly unenthusiastic either. Hiromi was just aware, and had been aware long before she'd boarded the train that nothing here was likely to be any different than it had been back home for the last three months. She was a practical person, or so she liked to believe, and practically, there was no reason why the people here should be made from a different mold than the ones she'd gratefully left behind. It wasn't a bad thing, and It wasn't a good thing. It just was, and so Hiromi wasn't wasting her time getting her hopes up.

After her father, Nobu Endo, had been arrested for the murder of a local store clerk three months before, Hiromi had gotten her first real taste of what people could be like at their worst and most vindictive. She'd walked into school a few days later only to have to endure the accusing stares and the wagging, gossipy tongues of every student and teacher who'd read the headlines and seen her father's picture in the paper. They'd had horrible things to say, cruel, vicious things, and they hadn't bothered to say them too quietly for Hiromi to hear. Still, that hadn't bothered her too much, at least not at first. She'd been positive that her father was innocent, and that even if it wasn't all cleared up in a matter of weeks, she'd be more than happy to endure the censure on her father's behalf.

The days had dragged on like that for a while, and it gave Hiromi plenty of time to think. People were coming out of the woodwork from all sides, admitting to being a party to drug deals begun and facilitated by her father's alleged "crime ring." It was crazy, Hiromi had thought, and it was all nonsense. At least, that's what she'd wanted to think. Then, the memories had started rolling back, of people that her father had welcomed into his home after all the neighbors were asleep. There were things that he'd said, and events that he'd never bothered to turn up to which came rushing back through Hiromi's treacherously practical mind, until she realized that she had doubts she'd never expected to entertain.

Then, too, there was the accident. Hiromi did not usually spend much time thinking about the accident, in which her face and foot had been damaged to the point of permanently noticeable scarring. It had been an accident, and Hiromi made a point of not dwelling on things like that, because in the end there was probably nothing that could have been done, and no one really worth blaming. At the time, the police had said something about how the accident might have been deliberate, how her father's car might have been run off the road with intention of causing her father harm, or even killing him. Hiromi hadn't believed it, then. Her world just did not work that way. That was something out of a crime novel or a bad TV show, and Hiromi did not live in either of those things.

Now, however, there were the doubts, and the doubts made her angry in a simmering, deep-seated way that began in the base of her spine and crept up hot and confused through her shaking hands and flushing face. She tried not to notice the scars more than she'd used to, but everything that people were saying, that the papers and the police were saying kept running through her head and making her feel more confused, and the confusion just made her more angry. It was better not to think about it, but it was also difficult not to think about it with everyone she knew shoving it in her face and whispering about it over her shoulder with every step she took.

She'd been relieved, therefore, when she'd been informed that she would be shipped off to boarding school in Tokyo. Iwasaki, apparently, was a school for gifted artists, people pegged with particular artistic talent in their former schools. Hiromi wasn't sure who'd spoken to whom, or what talent in particular she'd been lauded for, but apparently something had been enough. From her back pocket, Hiromi pulled out the map of the Iwasaki layout, searching for the quickest route to her assigned dormitory, which, according to her admissions paperwork, was called the "Shiro" dorm.

_Creative,_ thought Hiromi sarcastically. _Color names for an art school. I never would have thought of that. _

It was while she was reflecting, a bit too sourly, maybe, on the lack of creativity evident in the dorm naming that Hiromi heard a voice coming from somewhere to her left.

"Hey, come on!" protested the voice, with an edge of nervous laughter. "Look, I already told you, I don't have anything on me! What are you gonna do, take my clothes? I'll be straight with you, they aren't worth much…"

Stuffing the map back into her pocket, Hiromi turned towards the voice. There were a couple of guys standing a few feet away from her. One of them was wearing street clothes, a grubby t-shirt and a pair of jeans. The other was in the Iwasaki school uniform, the same white button-up shirt and pair of dark khaki slacks that Hiromi had seen in the catalogue and on her admissions packet. The boy in the jeans was advancing on the boy in the uniform, and as Hiromi moved closer, she saw that the boy in the jeans had a knife.

_Crap_, she thought.

"Look, can we talk about this?" insisted the boy in the uniform. "Hey, you can take whatever you want, just leave me alone, okay? There's…really no need for the scary knife thing. I'm not gonna be trouble. Promise! Would these eyes lie? Hey, whoa, knock it off!"

The boy in the uniform had a remarkably musical voice, one with the kind of diction that caught the ear and clued the listener in to each terrified vocal nuance. He was a scrawny, lanky, red-headed kid, with big hands and a big, stupid grin on his face as he backed further and further away from his attacker.

Hiromi thought briefly about walking away. Obviously neither of them had seen her yet, and whatever was going on here, it probably wasn't her business. After all, this was the city, and ugly things like this happened in the city. She knew that from watching TV. Everybody did.

Her duffle bag was getting heavier and heavier across her shoulders, and she briefly wished that she'd waited to buy her textbooks until she actually got to school. Lots of kids did that, even if it did mean that they'd end up spending more money at the pricey local bookstore. It meant not having to lug the heavy sack full of thousands and thousands of pages all around the city.

_Huh_, thought Hiromi. _Heavy bag. Very heavy bag. Hard, unwieldy, blunt textbooks…maybe six of them. Oh yeah, definitely should have waited for the bookstore. _

By this point, she was maybe only a few feet away from the two boys. As she took one more step forward, the red-headed kid's eyes suddenly darted over and met hers.

Hiromi sighed. Then, she moved.

Closing the gap between her and the two boys with a few quick strides, Hiromi took her bag firmly in both hands, and swung. The read headed-kid was pretty quick. He ducked down and hit the floor just as Hiromi's bag sailed over his head and connected hard with the skull of the knife-wielding kid.

"Ugh," grunted the attacker, as his eyes glazed over. Then he sank backwards and measured himself out on the ground. There was one brief moment of vaguely stunned silence as Hiromi and the red headed-kid both blinked down at the prone form of the attacker.

"Wow!" shouted the red-headed kid. "Hey, what do you keep in that thing? That was amazing! You're just-!"

Hiromi grabbed him by the elbow, and began hurrying him away from the scene. "Move," she instructed him, trying to resettle the back across her shoulders.

_Jeez, those books were expensive,_ she thought. _I hope nothing's damaged that badly…_


	4. Chapter Two: You're My Hiro

**Author's Note: **Kept writing even though I should be a) working on my other story, which I have all these notes for right here, or b) sleeping to prepare for work tomorrow. Oh well. Started it, better finish it now…

**Chapter Two: Did You Ever Know that You're My Hiro? **

"Hey, whoa, slow down!" whined the red-headed kid, as Hiromi pulled him along. "What's the big deal? Hey, do you think he's gonna wake up?"

_God, I hope so_, thought Hiromi. She didn't like the idea of having her own picture in the paper, right underneath a headline that might read something like "Murder of local schoolboy: Like Father, Like Daughter."

"Anyway," she said, "it's better if we don't stick around."

She glanced over at the red-headed kid, to see him looking at her with big, wide eyes, and a totally impressed, admiring look on his face that she was definitely not used to. It made her a little bit uncomfortable.

"You're amazing," he said.

"I'm not," she insisted. "The guy had a knife, right? What was I gonna do, just keep walking?"

The red-headed kid shrugged. "Most people would have. Most people do."

_Yeah,_ thought Hiromi. _And I almost did, too. _

Suddenly, Hiromi felt a pull on her shoulders, and realized that the red-headed kid was trying to get a handle on her duffle bag."At least let me carry your weapon for you," he said. "I mean, after all, it may have saved my life…"

"I've got it," muttered Hiromi, tugging it away from him. "Besides, it's really heavy."

The red-headed kid gave her a sheepish grin. "Yeah, it is," he admitted. "And…I probably can't carry it too far, so…maybe it's for the best? Still, there's gotta be something."

"You go to Iwasaki, right?" asked Hiromi.

The kid blinked at her. "How'd you know?"

_Oh, great,_ thought Hiromi, rolling her eyes. _This one's a real intellectual. _"You're wearing the uniform," she reminded him.

The kid brightened up. "Oh, yeah!" he agreed. "Sure, of course I am. Haha, sorry, guess you're kinda throwing me off. I mean, hey, it's barely noon and we're already out having a crazy adventure! Me, some big scary knife-holding kid, and a magnificent, mysterious battle maiden with a deadly duffle! Anyway, what's your name, battle maiden?"

Hiromi tried not to smile, but it didn't work. She sort of liked the idea of being a "battle maiden," and besides, his enthusiasm was catching.

"Hiromi Endo," she told him. "What's yours?"

"Masaru Kotone," he said, giving her a quick little in-transit bow. "Pleasure to meet you, Endo-san, and whoa, do I mean that or what? Seriously. You are totally my hero." He paused for a minute, then grinned again. "Hey, I made a joke. Hiromi…Hero…Hiro! Get it? Hiro? Hero? Huh?"

Hiromi had to hide another smile. This kid was like a caricature of a real person. Was that supposed to be a pun?

"So, what's it gonna be, Hiro-san?" persisted Masaru. "What can I do to repay you? Anything, anything at all. You name it, you got it. Sky's the limit. Uh…I think. Actually, let's not get carried away, or anything, but-!"

"Can you show me how to get to the Shiro dorm?" interrupted Hiromi. "I'm new here, and I'm starting tomorrow. I'm supposed to check into the dorm by three o'clock."

Masaru nodded immediately. "Hey, you're starting here? Wow, that's great! Uh, for us, anyway. Welcome to Iwasaki Academy, where everyone's a character and everyone's a critic. I didn't know we were getting a transfer. What year?"

"Second year," murmured Hiromi. "So, can you show me the-!"

Masaru drew himself up to his full height, squared his shoulders, and presented his arm. It took Hiromi a moment before she realized that apparently, she was expected to take it.

"And we're off!" announced Masaru, as she awkwardly linked her elbow through his and they set off in the totally opposite direction from where she'd originally been heading. "Shiro dorm, here we come!"

They walked along together for a few minutes. Hiromi scanned the shops and local sights as they passed, trying to make herself a mental map of the route they were taking, while Masaru prattled on about something that Hiromi wasn't even pretending to pay attention to. She had almost begun to tune him out entirely when he said something so totally unexpected that it cut right through her practiced and distracted reverie, and straight to the heart of the matter.

"Hey," asked Masaru, peering over at her. "What happened to your face?"

Hiromi was so surprised that she stopped walking and stared at him. Of course, she was used to people looking at her scars. That happened all the time, or in fact whenever she met someone new. She had never, however, had someone come right out and ask her abruptly like that. Usually, people either just gawked at her, or whispered to each other behind her back as she walked away.

"Ah…" she murmured, totally thrown off. "I…was in a car accident, when I was a kid. There was…a lot of glass, I guess."

Masaru frowned. "Ouch," he remarked feelingly. "That doesn't sound like much fun, huh?"

Then he went back to talking about the local ramen restaurants, and that was, apparently, that. Hiromi, slightly stunned, let him keep urging her forward down the street apparently in the direction of the dorm.

The whole time they were walking, she kept expecting him to bring it up again, to ask exactly what had happened, or to press her for more details about the hospital, or the blood, or any other sordid information hat people enjoyed hearing about second hand whenever there was a particularly delectable tragedy.

"Oh, here we are!" announced Masaru, coming to a full stop in front of a big building with a colorful, crayon-decorated banner posted over the door. "Shiro dorm, right? This is it. Welcome home, new neighbor!"

Hiromi frowned. "New neighbor?" she asked.

"Yeah!" beamed Masaru. "I live here, too!"

He pushed open the two front doors, and Hiromi followed him inside. There was no one else around on the entrance level, at the moment, and she felt herself let out a little sigh of relief. She'd been steeling herself, she realized, for the curious and accusing stares that she was bound to get after people recognized her name or even her picture from the paper or the TV news. It was nice that she didn't have to deal with that, just yet. Maybe now she'd be able to settle in and unpack before the questions and the whispers started coming.

"This is a co-ed dorm?" she asked, as Masaru slumped down on to one of the couches near the door.

He nodded. "Oh yeah," he told her, waving a dismissive hand. "Oh, does that bother you? Hey, uh, you might want to get used to it…we're all artists here, you know? So like…that kinda stuff's not really a big deal."

A few feet past the door itself, Hiromi noticed an artistically nude statue with one arm upraised, apparently welcoming the students into the dorm.

"Ah," she said.

"Right?" agreed Masaru, nodding. "Anyway, you'll like it. Everybody here's pretty cool. Oh, hey, that reminds me…what do you do?"

Hiromi blinked at him. "What…do I do?" she repeated, aware of how stupid she sounded.

"You know, like...uh, why are you here? Like, do you sing? Do you paint? Can you turn yourself in a pretzel? What?" clarified Masaru.

For some reason, Hiromi was having a hard time tearing her eyes away from the looming statue.

_What,_ she wondered, _have I gotten myself into, exactly? _


	5. Chapter Three: Cast of Characters

**Chapter Three: Cast of Characters**

While Hiromi sat there, her mind wandering over and around the image of a human-pretzel hybrid, she was aware that Masaru was still watching her expectantly.

"Um," she said finally. "Actually, I'm…dabbling, I guess? I'm not sure exactly what my…talent might be, if you want to put it that way. I was in a few student-directed plays back at my old high school, though, so…maybe, theater?"

She knew just how lame that answer sounded coming out, but Masaru didn't seem to mind. Instead, he nodded enthusiastically at her.

"That's great!" he beamed. "Hey, you'll fit in like a dream here. Most of us in this dorm are performer types, anyway, so this is the perfect place for you."

That did not exactly make Hiromi feel any better. If she was going to screw up and fall on her face, so to speak, she'd rather have done it without being surrounded by seasoned theatrical veterans. Still, it was what it was.

"Maybe we can help you with your 'dabbling,'" suggested Masaru. "Uh, um, wow, that actually came out sounding…way wrong, like, not how I wanted it to sound at all. So, uh, what I meant was that maybe we-!"

"Hey, senpai!" called a feminine voice, mercifully cutting Masaru off in mid-protestation. "I'm hungry, do you want to…oh! You have a guest! I'm so sorry!"

Masaru stood up from the couch as a short, busty young woman came into the room. She, too, was wearing the Iwasaki uniform, the girl's version, with kilted khaki skirt instead of pants. She seemed to have opted for the shorter model, as plenty of her pale legs were showing under the hem, although her slightly raised heels weren't doing much to make those legs look any longer. She had elaborately twisted blond hair coiled up onto her head and overflowing over her shoulders. The tips were dyed a very striking and not at all unflattering shade of pale pink.

"Mo-chan!" grinned Masaru, looking back and forth between her and Hiromi. "Hiro-san, this is Momoko Kawasaki, a first year in our dorm. Mo-chan, this is Hiro Endo…she's the new transfer student."

Hiromi noted that Masaru was now talking about "the new transfer student" as though this was something he'd known about and been expecting all along. She stood up as well, and gave Momoko what she feared was only her best attempt at a welcoming smile. Momoko smiled back, and Hiromi couldn't help but feel like there was something vacant and lacking in that smile, as though part of Momoko's mind was permanently and yet somewhat pleasantly out to lunch.

"Nice to meet you, Hiro-san!" warbled Momoko, bobbing a little bow.

"The same to you," agreed Hiromi nodding. "Only, um, actually, my name's not Hiro, it's-!"

The front door slammed abruptly shut, causing Momoko, Masaru, and Hiromi all to spin around to witness the entrance of yet another individual in Iwasaki uniform. This man was taller than the others, and his entire appearance could have been effectively summed up by the one word "disheveled." His silvery hair was in complete tousled disarray, and his jacket was hanging, rumpled, off of one shoulder as he stormed past them and up the stairs, muttering and grumbling to himself with every step. Just before he disappeared into the stairwell, Hiromi noticed that the glasses perched on his nose were held together by an uncertain piece of masking tape.

"Uh oh," murmured Momoko, biting her lip. "He sure didn't look very happy…"

Hiromi blinked. "Who was that?" she asked.

"That," Masaru informed her, "was Ren. Ren Yamaguchi, he's a senior. He lives upstairs. You probably won't see much of him…he actually doesn't come out much. I mean, he has to leave the dorm to go to classes, and stuff, but, uh, otherwise he pretty much keeps to himself, unless it's an emergency. Probably not much point in introducing you, unless you really want…" Masaru looked as though he was hoping that Hiromi wouldn't really want to be introduced. Hiromi remembered the somewhat wild look on Ren's face, and the unintelligible mutterings, and decided that Masaru probably had a point.

"He's nice," insisted Momoko, half-heartedly. "No, he's really nice…"

"Just, you know, a little strange," added Masaru. "I mean, he's not dangerous or anything but…you know, he's a caffeine addict, and it makes him twitchy. He jumps at small noises and talks to himself a lot. His whole dorm room's full of books, but there's no furniture, unless you count the futon."

Momoko looked impressed. "Wow, Masaru, how do you know that?" she asked. "Have you been into senpai's room?"

Masaru shook his head emphatically. "What, me? Nah, no way, but I was vacuuming upstairs this one time, and I got a look in when he opened the door. Oh, that reminds me…hey, Hiro." Turning back to Hiromi, he jerked one finger over towards the far wall. "There's a chore chart on the wall, there…we do it by the month. You probably want to put your name down if you don't want to get volunteered for all the messy stuff…like the bathrooms, I guess."

Hiromi, who had cleaned her and her father's bathroom every day for the last ten years at least, wasn't too worried about it. "What does he do?" she asked, glancing over in the direction of the stairwell. "As an artist, I mean. Does he have a talent?"

Masaru shrugged. "Ren? Uh, probably, but beats me what it is. I guess he's gotta do something up there all day."

"He's a drama-turg," announced Momoko importantly. She had trouble getting both syllables of the word out in succession, and lingered unnecessarily on the "drama" part, forcing her tongue around the word before shoving it out. "That means he reads a lot of plays and learns things about them. He told me."

Now it was Masaru's turn to look impressed. "He told you? Really? When?"

"I dunno," mumbled Momoko. "A few weeks ago, maybe? He was asking me something…something about the best way to do makeup on a real, historical Egyptian queen."

Masaru nodded. "Oh, right, that makes sense." Turning to Hiromi, he said, "Momoko here is a really great top-notch makeup artist. She does all the school plays, and I mean all of them. She's the best there is. Once she's done with you, you don't even recognize yourself in the mirror."

Momoko flushed slightly, and beamed at the same time, squirming around on the couch cushion. "Aw, I'm never that good," she murmured modestly. "Oh, I do hair too, though. Yeah, I'm pretty good at hair! I did mine, see?"

She flipped her pink-tipped locks in Hiromi's direction, and Hiromi made an appropriate noise of admiration and approval. That seemed to satisfy Momoko.

"So, you were talking about food?" asked Masaru. "Not a bad idea, I ended up skipping lunch to get my second period homework done. Then on my way back from class, I ran into this crazy weirdo with a knife! Can you believe that? So yeah, I'm starving, when do we go?"

Momoko's eyes went wide. "Oh no," she mumbled. "Not again…that's the third time this week."

That got Hiromi's full attention. "Wait," she demanded. "That was the third time you got held up at knifepoint this week? Just what kind of a place is this city, anyway?"

Momoko and Masaru exchanged a significant look, but for some reason neither of them volunteered to answer the question. Instead, Masaru took a step forward towards the door.

"Chinese?" he asked. "Or do you want to actually brave the cafeteria again? You're coming with us too, right Hiro?"

"Sure," muttered Hiromi. "I…I mean, that's fine, thank you." She started after him, only to stop when she and Masaru both became aware that Momoko wasn't following them. When they looked back in her direction, they found that she was standing there, looking bemused and blinking around the room.

"What's up?" asked Masaru.

Momoko frowned. "I can't find my shoes," she said. "I'll need them to go out, Did you see whre I…?"

Hiromi opened her mouth to say something, but somehow no sound came out. She wasn't quite sure how to phrase it.

In the end, Masaru took care of it for her. "They're on your feet, Mo-chan," he informed the other girl. "Come on, let's go."


	6. Chapter Four: A Wolf Among the Flock

**Chapter Four: A Wolf Among the Flock**

"So," asked Masaru, unexpectedly eloquent despite the masticated piece of cheeseburger that he was trying to talk around. "You picked your classes, yet?"

"Um?" asked Hiromi distractedly. She wasn't too invested in the conversation. Instead, she was busy trying to keep her head down, uncomfortably aware of just how many students were packed around her into the cramped little cafeteria. Art students, she knew, were notorious for being a bunch of out-of-the-loop basement dwellers, but surely there was at least one person here, and more likely several who read the paper regularly and had seen her name and face plastered across the front page over the past few months.

"Yoo-hoo!" trilled Momoko, suddenly and alarmingly very close to Hiromi's face. "Hiro-san! Are you daydreaming/ Oh, is it a nice dream? Is he cute?"

Hiromi cleared her throat. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "Masaru-kun, were you asking me something?"

"Yeah," repeated Masaru. "I was asking you about your classes. Know what you're taking, yet?"

Hiromi blinked at him. "I…wasn't aware that I had choices," she said. "Second semester classes begin tomorrow, don't they? Aren't the class assignments already taken care of? I assume that there's some sort of core curriculum for each year."

Masaru shook his head emphatically. "No way! I mean, where's the fun in that, right? No, we pick all our own courses at Iwasaki. It's all kinds of self-expressive. You're gonna love it."

Hiromi had never heard of a high school with that kind of a free choice curriculum before.

_Wait, no, _she thought, _I have, actually. There is that one sort of free-learning based program I saw advertised on TV back home. That was sort of like what this is, I think. Looked a lot more like screaming chaos than real education, but…hey, what do I know? _She sighed.

"So, how do I choose?" she asked. "Is there a form online, or something?"

Momoko shook her head. "Oh, no," she informed Hiromi. "It all happens on the first day! You have to try to be the…um…the…" she faltered and got that vaguely glassy look in her eyes that Hiromi was coming to recognize as a sign that the gears in Momoko's brain were trying to turn.

"The first twenty people,' suggested Masaru helpfully.

"Oh, right!" Momoko beamed at him. "That's right, you have to be in the first twenty people to get into the classroom! Then the teacher puts your name on a master list. It's very exciting. Sometimes people fight. Like…POW!" She emphasized the "pow" by slamming her glass of soda down on the table, which resulted in the soda itself overflowing all over her napkin and on to Masaru's chocolate cookie.

Masaru didn't seem to mind much. "Oh, hey," he said, his eyes lighting up. "That reminds me…Mo-chan, did I tell you that Hiro-san here beat the crap out of that scary knife guy with nothing but her duffle bag? I mean…talk about 'hitting the books,' right?"

He then proceeded to launch for at least the second time into an emphatic retelling of his and Hiromi's adventures that day. Momoko, who had definitely already heard the story before, still nodded and smiled, registering censure, delight, surprise, and making all of the correct 'ooh' and 'aah' noises at the appropriate moments, almost as though she'd been rehearsing the very best places to put those reactions.

_These people,_ thought Hiromi desperately. _What is wrong with these people? Maybe I really would have had better luck just sticking to the assholes back home…I mean, at least they made sense. These people are…well, they're crazy. I think. _

"Don't worry," Masaru was saying, giving her a reassuring little grin. "You stick with me tomorrow. I've got killer elbows, wicked sharp, and between my elbows and your duffle bag skills we've got this course registration thing in the bag!"

Hiromi's appetite was lacking, probably from all the stress or something, so she didn't end up eating very much. Masaru and Momoko pooled their funds and managed to finish a second cheeseburger between them before it was time to go. Then they all three left the cafeteria and headed back towards the dorm.

When they walked in, there was an unfamiliar dark-haired girl seated on the sofa. Her body was so straight and rigid against the sofa cushions that Hiromi got the instant and involuntarily impression of rigor mortis. Her uniform skirt was much longer than Momoko's almost past her knee, and there was dark makeup caked all over her heavy-lidded eyes.

"Oh," chirped Momoko brightly. "Hi, Kazoue-senpai! Senpai, this is Hiro-san! She lives here, now." Momoko gave Hiromi a little push forward, and Hiromi suddenly found herself standing directly in the path of this Kazoue girl's dispassionately scrutinizing stare. She tried not to cringe away from it.

"You're the new girl, huh?" asked Kazoue.

"Um…yes," admitted Hiromi. "Although, sorry, my name isn't actually Hiro, it's-!"

Before Hiromi could finish her sentence, however, Kazoue had thrust a clipboard at her. "Here," she muttered. "You sign this. In when you come, out when you go. Print, not cursive. Blue or black ink."

"I don't have a pen on me," mumbled Hiromi. "I need to buy a new pen case, you see, because I left my old one at the-!"

Kazoue snatched a blue pen off of the nearby table, and almost stabbed Hiromi with it as she passed it over. Hastily, Hiromi took the pen and signed herself in.

"Fine," sighed Kazoue. "So, welcome to Iwasaki, I guess. Lucky you."

"Thank you?" asked Hiromi hesitantly.

Kazoue shrugged. "Yeah," she mumbled. "Sure, Whatever. I'm Kazoue Watanabe, third year. I'm your dorm advisor. We've probably got rules here, but no one really remembers what they are. It's just common sense. Shower regularly, please. Keep your space clean, we don't want ants. No performing in the hallways after two AM, either. Other people need sleep, even if you don't. If you want to have boyfriends over, I don't care. If you want to have girlfriends over, I don't care. I live on the third floor and I sleep badly, so if you have to go upstairs, try to keep it down." She frowned, bit her lip, and then asked, "any questions?"

Hiromi felt as though she'd just been punched in the gut. There was something about the clipped, curt way that Kazoue bombarded her with a lack of information that made her want to go and lie down. "Do you…know my room number?" she asked finally.

Kazoue reached into her pocket and then presented Hiromi with a door key. "Basement floor," she informed her. "Room 002. It's cold in the basement. You'll want sweaters."

With that, Kazoue stood up, and started for the stairwell.

"Ooh, that's great!" announced Momoko, bouncing on the balls of her feet with excitement. "That's the same floor that I'm on! We can have slumber parties! Girls night! Woohoo!"

_Oh, dear god_, thought Hiromi. She opened her mouth to say something, but again, something happened to cut her off mid-thought.

"Excuse me," said Ren, stepping off the bottom stair and into the living room. His face was hidden behind an unfolded newspaper.

Masaru's eyes went wide. "Whoa," he said under his breath. "He's here! He's really here! I wonder if maybe his room's on fire?

"Shh!" admonished Momoko, planting her hands on her hips. "That's not nice."

"I hate to intrude on this little gathering," continued Ren, "but something has come to my attention, something that has been troubling me, although until moments ago I was unable to put my finger on just exactly what that something was. Have any of you read the paper, today?"

"What a drag," muttered Kazoue.

"Nope!" said Momoko. "Sorry! Wait, do we even get a paper? I didn't know that…"

Ren sighed. "Of course you haven't. Well, there is a photograph in today's paper of that girl, the daughter of the man recently convicted for the brutal murder of his next door neighbor in the Tokyo suburbs. Endo, I believe his name is. In any case, this picture bears a disturbing resemblance to the face of the girl that Kotone and Kawasaki were speaking to in the living room when I passed through earlier today, and a rather menacing face indeed, if I may be so bold."

"Wait, what?" asked Masaru, staring suddenly at Hiromi.

"Oooh…no, that can't be right," began Momoko.

"It is possible," continued Ren didactically, "that if my observation and subsequent assumptions are correct, we may have something of a wolf among our little flock. Perhaps it would be best if we notified the school authorities. I am certain that no such individual would ever be permitted on the school premises with their knowledge. The problem will, of course, be thus duly rectified…that is, if she can be found."

"Senpai!" shrieked Momoko, sounding shocked. "How could you? She's not-!"

Hiromi sighed. _Well,_ she thought, _it was fun while it lasted. It's not like there was any chance of them never figuring it out…even if they are a little, uh, lacking in the intellectual department. _"No," she said out loud, trying to sound a bit more confident than she really felt. "You're not wrong. That's me. Hiromi Endo, daughter of Nobu Endo. I'm sure there was some sort of letter sent out, saying that I'd been transferring here. I'm very sorry if I gave you…I don't know, the wrong impression, I guess?"

She set her shoulders back and tried to stand up tall, while Ren slowly drew the newspaper away from his face and glanced in her direction. His ears turned slightly pink and Hiromi realized, with just a hint of malicious amusement that he probably hadn't realized she was even in the room.

"Ah," he said. "I…I see. I…ah…"

There didn't seem to be anything else to say. Everyone was just staring at Hiromi, and Momoko had her mouth slightly open like she'd been cut off in mid-concept. Hiromi resisted the sudden urge to reach over and close it for her.

_Good time for a dramatic exit_, thought Hiromi. Still tightly grasping the key to her room, she went over and casually picked up the duffle that she'd left lying on the couch.

"Well, it was nice meeting everyone!" she said, forcing herself to be cheerful, or at least something that maybe sounded like it. "Um, thank you for the room key, and the…introductions. Anyway…goodnight."

With that, she beat a retreat towards the basement stairwell.


	7. Chapter Five: No Further Comment

**Chapter Five: No Further Comment**

Hiromi hurried into her assigned room, closed the door, and locked it. She was angry at herself, angry because despite the fact that she'd spent the whole day expecting something like this, it had still gotten her all flustered and upset when it had finally happened.

_Maybe I'm so angry because it came from Ren_, thought Hiromi. _I never even got introduced to him. We never even said two words to each other, and then he marches down the stairs and outs me to everybody, just like that? _It hurt, especially after she'd almost managed to have something that may sort of have resembled fun with Masaru and Momoko. Okay, they were strange people, possibly even a little bit crazy, but the point was that they had been friendly to her. Hiromi realized suddenly that she couldn't remember the last time she'd really sat down and talked with a friendly person. From the moment her father had been arrested it had been all stern policemen, solicitous but insincere distant relatives and gawking, gossiping classmates and teachers. There had been well-wishers too, of course, and people who had said things like "Oh, you poor dear, this must all be so awful for you," but all those people ended up being were scandal hounds who wanted nothing better than to heap their pity on someone who might make it into the news.

_This was the first time_, realized Hiromi, _that I almost made a friend. At least, the first time in a really long time. I guess I got carried away._

That thought was just a little bit too miserable for Hiromi to cope with for the moment, and so she tried to distract herself by checking out the pile of things that were lying on the little bed that someone, probably not Kazoue, had already taken the time to make up for her. Sitting on the pillow was a thick pamphlet entitled "Course Registration, Winter 2013." Next to that was a tiny little chocolate bar, already half-melted in the wrapper as though someone had been carrying it around in his or her pocket. Underneath that was a small manila envelope, with nothing written on it at all.

Curious, Hiromi tore open the envelope, and emptied out the contents on to the bedspread. All that fell out when she shook the thing was one large pink pill, something that looked like one of those horrible multivitamins that older women took, and that would probably be just plain painful to swallow, considering its size. It had little tiny letters printed on it, like pills usually did. As far as Hiromi could make out, the letters were MPATH.

Hiromi could feel her face flushing as her blood began to boil. _Cute, _she thought miserably. _This is some kind of sick joke, right? Someone realized that they'd have the drug king's daughter for a dorm mate, and so they decided to leave some pills lying around? Jeez. _

Hiromi really did do her best not to get angry. After all, this was the sort of thing that she'd been expecting, exactly the sort of thing that some stupid prankster kid might have done back at her old school.

_It's just_, she thought, _that I was starting to get my hopes up. Hope springs eternal…oh, balls. _

She was just dumping the pill back into the envelope, and the envelope into a nearby trashcan when there was a nervous sort of knock at the door.

"Um…Hiro-san?" asked Masaru. "Hey…can you come out for a second?"

_No_, thought Hiromi. _Miss Endo will not be answering questions from the press at this time. No further comment. _

Instead of saying that, however, she stood up, and opened the door. "Yes? What is it?"

Masaru looked uncomfortable. The expression on his face said that he was clearly waiting for her to do something terrifying, like hit him with a duffle bag, or burst into torrents of spontaneous sobs. Hiromi absolutely hated seeing that look on people's faces. She wasn't a naturally hysterical person, and she certainly wasn't her father. Why was everyone always waiting for her to combust? She wasn't the combusting type.

"Listen, uh…" began Masaru. "I'm sorry about what Ren said. You know, about your dad, and stuff.

Hiromi shrugged. "It's true, what he said," she acknowledged. "About my dad, I mean. Can't fault anybody for speaking the truth."

"Yeah," mumbled Masaru, "but it's not cool what he said about you, anyway. I mean…it's not like you killed anybody, right?"

Hiromi could tell just by watching Masaru's face that the question had multiple meanings. He was somehow trying to reassure her and himself at the same time, hoping she'd agree pretty quickly, so that he could put any doubts about her being a murderess out of both of their minds.

"Of course she didn't, you dummy!" Momoko came flouncing up to them both, her lips pursed in righteous indignation. "Don't ask stupid questions. Hiro-san's really nice!"

Hiromi got the idea that anyone who was able to breathe air and walk on two legs fell, as far as Momoko was concerned, into the category of "really nice." Momoko was the sort of person who actually would get herself murdered by getting far too comfortable far too quickly with total strangers. She had about as much natural reserve and caution as a demented sheep.

_But,_ objected the last few non-cynical remnants holding out in the back of Hiromi's mind, _actually, she really is very…well, nice. No, she is. She's a sweetheart. There are worse things to say about a person, right?_

"I'm sorry," muttered Masaru.

Hiromi raised an eyebrow at him.

"I…hey, I knew, okay?" He sighed. "Um, I knew when I met you that you were…you know, the same girl as the one in the paper. I've got a good eye for faces, always have, and you are kind of a celebrity, so…it's not like it was hard to figure out." He looked a little ashamed of himself. "I guess I figured the right thing to do was to just not say anything about it. Seemed like a good idea at the time, but…I guess maybe if I had said something, you wouldn't have had to go through that whole thing with Ren. He's tactless and awful, and…that was probably worse than it had to be. So, yeah. I'm sorry. I owed you one already, and now maybe I owe you two."

Hiromi just stared at him. She'd gotten stuck on something he'd said, and the rest of the apology was lost on her as she turned it over again in her head, not quite sure she'd heard him right.

"You…knew?" she asked him.

Masaru nodded. "Yep. Like, maybe twenty minutes after you knocked that guy out. Took me a second to figure out just where I'd seen you before, but…"

"And…you don't care?" asked Hiromi. "Doesn't it bother you that I'm…well, that I'm related to a killer?" Remembering just exactly what it was that Ren had said, Hiromi gritted her teeth. "That I've got a 'menacing ' face, too?"

Masaru shrugged. "Your face is fine," he told her. "Anyway, menacing is good, right? You can menace my enemies for me. Scary can be nice to have around, sometimes."

Hiromi wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. Momoko made a disappointed clicking sound with her teeth.

"You're not scary, Hiro-san," she said soothingly, patting her on the arm in a condescending way that somehow seemed ludicrous coming from a girl of Momoko's unimpressive size. "Masaru's a stupid. I don't think you look scary at all. Everyone is different, right? We are all unique, and that is what makes us special."

She beamed at Hiromi, who somehow couldn't find it in herself to tell Momoko just how horribly cliché that cheesy soap line she'd just used really was. "It's not about being unique," she said instead. "And it's not just about the way I look, either. If I just had the scars, it'd be different. People would stare, but they wouldn't talk. If I was a pretty girl with a killer for a father, people would go on and on about how I must take after my mother, and I'm clearly the victim of an unfortunate and tragic bringing up. No, the problem here is that I'm ugly and I'm famous. I look like the kind of girl you should be afraid of, and I've got the kind of family that would raise a scary kid. I'm damned no matter what I do. When people hear about me, they want to believe that I'm bad news, and then they see me and feel like they must have been right all along. It goes the same the other way. Forget it, I should have known better. Trying to meet new people around here is going to be even harder than making up to the old ones I knew back home. They'll be sure they know me as soon as they look at me, I never stood a chance."

Hiromi stopped, and took a deep breath. That whole tirade had sort of come pouring out her before she'd had a chance to reign it in, and now she was embarrassed that she'd said so much to people who knew so little about her, and who could never be expected to get where she was coming from. They'd come down here to try and make her feel better, and instead she'd bombarded them with a lot of emotional crap that not even she was sure she really felt comfortable caring about. They weren't even looking at her anymore, she realized, but were eying each other now with uncertain looks on their faces.

"Nope," announced Momoko, turning back to Hiromi after a moment's pause, with a determined look on her good natured face. "You can't say that! You can't say that you don't have a chance, because I have an idea."

Hiromi raised an eyebrow. The very thought of Momoko having an idea was frightening in and of itself.

Masaru cleared his throat. "Actually," he said, "it was my idea, but…Momoko agreed to help. That is, if you want her to."

"Oh, please!" begged Momoko, clasping her hands in front of her in delighted supplication. "I promise I won't make a mess of it. You'll love it, you'll just love it, I know you will!"

Hiromi glanced at Masaru. "Wait," she asked, "What…what exactly is this idea?"


	8. Chapter Six: Face-Off

**Chapter Six: Face-Off**

Momoko took Hiromi and Masaru upstairs to her own room on the second floor. Hiromi raised an eyebrow when Masaru barged right in after her, but remembered the nude statue near the entrance, and the way Masaru had flippantly dismissed "that stuff."

Things only began to get really alarming when Momoko reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a huge pair of shiny silver scissors.

"What-?" began Hiromi.

"Makeover!" announced Momoko delightedly.

Hiromi's mouth fell open. "No," she said quickly. "No, thank you." Helplessly, she turned to Masaru for support, but he just shrugged at her.

"You don't want people to recognize you, right?" he asked. "Or judge you because of your picture in the paper? So, let's fix it so you don't look like the picture. I told you, Mo-chan's really great with makeup. She's a wizard with character changes."

Momoko was gazing at Hiromi with amazingly sincere puppy eyes. "I'll make you look really pretty!" she promised.

Hiromi knew she had to object again. She'd never had a makeover before in her life. The very word "makeover" brought to mind terrifying images of giggling girls wielding large pink hairbrushes like clubs, and smearing themselves with bright red lipstick while they chatted in irritatingly shrill voices about boys and shoes. Hiromi shuddered.

"And hey," continued Masaru reasonably. "It's just makeup, right? So, if you decide you hate it, you can just take it off. What's not to like? It's a neat plan, come on."

"Please?" begged Momoko. "Pretty please? It's been sooo long since I've gotten to play with pretty makeup. Normally they just make me do the witches and the goblins and the monsters and stuff, and that's boring. I want to make you pretty! This'll be fun!"

_That's not an endorsement_, thought Hiromi. _Not by a long shot. Still, it's a point. Make up is just makeup, and it might be nice to try a change. Who knows, Masaru could be right…it could work. Then again, I could end up looking like a reject from a horror film. _

Masaru and Momoko were now both watching Hiromi anxiously. She sighed.

"Okay, sure," she said. "Why not? Thanks, guys…I think."

Momoko beamed and clapped her hands with glee. "Great! You won't regret it!" she said.

Hiromi bit her lip. She wasn't too sure about that.

For almost the next three hours, Hiromi sat in Momoko's desk chair while confusing and vaguely uncomfortable things happened to her face. Momoko seemed to have an endless supply of creams, powders, glosses and brushes, most of which she tried out at least once against Hiromi's skin before pursing her lips and sighing, which did not make Hiromi any more confident. The scissors, apparently, were for use on Hiromi's hair, as were a series of small round bottles full of paste and dye. That, Hiromi reflected, would be a lot more permanent than the makeup, but turning back now didn't' seem like a valid option.

There was a mirror in front of Hiromi throughout the entire makeover process, but Hiromi was just a bit too terrified of what she might see to meet the image in that mirror head on. Instead, she tried catching glimpses of the room itself out of the corners of her eyes, or whenever Momoko stepped away for a moment and let Hiromi turn her head. The room, much to Hiromi's surprise, was not pink. She wasn't sure why, but she had definitely anticipated a certain level of pinkness. Instead, Momoko's room was completely and totally plastered with photographs. There were photographs of men and of women, of girls and of boys, all of different shapes, sizes, colors and tones, smiling and frowning, wearing every color of the rainbow. Some photos looked more natural and candid, like Momoko might have taken them herself. Others were clearly cut out of magazines. The walls upon walls of photos were frankly a little unnerving, thought Hiromi. There were so many pairs of eyes on her in that room.

"Okay"! announced Momoko finally, stepping back to admire her work. "All done! Masaru-kun, you can come look now!"

Masaru had been sitting on the floor in the corner of the room, leafing through his own copy of the course catalog. Now he got up and made his way over to Hiromi. Hesitantly, biting her lip, Hiromi turned her full face to the mirror and opened both eyes, prepared for the worst.

"Oh," she murmured, honestly a little taken aback. "Oh, wow."

The scars were gone, completely and totally gone. All of the puckered and twisted skin around them had been smoothed over so as to leave no trace. When Hiromi reached up to place her fingertips against the place under her eyelid where one scar had used to be, her fingers came away again clean, without any trace of powder or sticky mess clinging to them.

"It's good, isn't it?" asked Momoko anxiously. "Did I do a good job, Hiro-san?"

Hiromi's hair, too, had drastically changed. Her once long, lumpy brown curls had been cut, smoothed, and reshaped into a much shorter sort of bobbed look. Momoko had taken the liberty of dying Hiromi's hair an unusual blue-black color, like the color you might find if you opened up a closet of ambiguously intended business suits.

"How did you do that?" asked Hiromi, gingerly touching a newly co-operative lock of hair.

"Keratin treatment!" trilled Momoko, holding out a small blue bottle. "Oh," she added, "but this is for you. You have to use it every day, or your hair's gonna get all lumpy again! Nope, can't have that. Oh, oh, and look at this!"

Dropping the keratin bottle on to the desk, Momoko pulled out a thin black box. She opened it to reveal what looked like a series of little colored pupils, all staring up at Hiromi from the depths of the box.

"What on earth-?" began Hiromi in alarmed.

"Colored contacts," Momoko explained. "Which color do you want? I have blue, and green, and brown, and…ooh, purple, and these ones are fuchsia, and I think I have silver, and…"

Hiromi grabbed her glasses and stuck them protectively on to her nose again. "No, thank you," she insisted. "I…don't think that will be necessary."

Momoko looked disappointed, but she shrugged. "Ookay, if you're sure…hey, Masaru, you're very quiet. What's wrong? Don't you like it?" She turned on Masaru, who was gazing at Hiromi with a little frown on his face, like he was trying to sort something out in his head.

"Uh, yeah, it's great," he said. "I mean, she sure doesn't look like the picture anymore. I don't know, though…I think I liked her better before. Call me crazy, but I was getting attached to the scary. I was sort of counting on that to help us out in the big course registration battle tomorrow."

Momoko kicked him sharply in the shin with a pointed toe, and Masaru winced, doubling over to clutch at his leg. "You stupid!" said Momoko. Hiromi wasn't sure if Momoko was angrier that Masaru had called Hiromi "scary," or that he'd maligned Momoko's work.

"Thank you guys," she said. "I don't know if this is going to work, but…you put a lot of effort into it, at least, and that means something. Really…I mean it, um…thanks."

"No problem!" replied Momoko happily. "I'm so glad you like it! Now, take this towel and these wipes, and go take the makeup off, okay?" She thrust a towel and a box of wipes at Hiromi, who stared at it in confusion.

"But…you just finished putting it on," she said. "It…took so long."

Momoko nodded. "Yes yes, I know, but that was just so that we could see if it would work! Oh, and it was mostly the hair that took forever, the makeup's pretty quick once you get it right. You can't sleep with it in, that'll be bad for your skin! Go on, you take it off. We'll put it back on again in the morning."

Hiromi sighed. "Maybe," she said, "you should teach me how to put it on myself…if that's okay with you."

After saying goodnight to Momoko, Masaru walked Hiromi back downstairs to her room.

"How come you're doing all of this for me?" she asked him as they descended. "You barely know me. For all you know, I really could be as bad as everyone says."

Masaru shrugged. "Nah, I doubt it. Besides, you helped me out today. One good turn deserves another, right? I owe you."

"You don't owe me this much," insisted Hiromi. "Dinner or coffee, maybe, but all of this? I'd say this was above and beyond the call of duty."

"If something is worth doing," replied Masaru philosophically, "then it is worth doing as well as I can. Oh, by the way, that reminds me. You're gonna need a new name to go with your new face. I thought maybe we could pretend that you're my cousin. You know, Somebody Kotone, if that's okay with you. So now, all you need is a good first name."

Hiromi thought about that.

"It should be something easy to remember," Masaru went on. "So that you won't forget and use the wrong name when you're talking to somebody, or something like that."

Hiromi smiled. It was the first real, genuine, unqualified smile she'd felt like giving anybody all day, or maybe even all week.

"Hiro," she said.

Masaru looked puzzled. "Huh? But that' your name already, Hiromi."

Hiromi shook her head. "Not Hiromi," she clarified. "Hiro. Just Hiro."

"Ohh…" Masaru nodded. "Okay, gotcha. Sure. Hiro Kotone. Yeah, actually that kind of rings, doesn't it? Sure, it'll work. I like it yeah." He grinned at her, and Hiromi….no, Hiro grinned back.

"Cool," said Masaru. "Well, in that case, see you tomorrow, right?"

**Author's Endnote: **Hi guys! Thanks so much for reading my story! This is the exciting part where we start to get into the interactive elements of the persona series. So, in the series, you have a bunch of choices, right? I'm going to give you choices here, too! This is just for fun, but it'll help me out a lot with deciding what direction to take the story in. If you feel so inclined, go ahead and review the story with an answer to the following question:

Which of these three courses should Hiromi and Masaru try to get into, tomorrow?

Introduction to World Drama

Music and Mathematics – A Symbiosis

Business for Art Students – The Way It Work

Each of these classes will involve interaction with a different person, and some of them might allow Hiromi to meet a new character or forge the beginning of a new link!

Thanks again, and I'm looking forward to hearing from you!

Sincerely and enthusiastically,

Ari Moriarty


	9. Chapter Seven: A Dramatic Entrance

**Author's Note: **I'm sorry for the slow start to this story, guys. I promise, the persona stuff is going to start really, really son, in just a couple of chapters, but I feel very strongly about establishing and defining a few characters first, before I get into that stuff. I think it'll make it more fun for you to read in the long run.

In the meantime, the next two chapters focus around the class that you selected by majority vote! Hopefully you'll be happy with what you ended up with, but if not you'll have plenty of other opportunities to make new choices and meet/develop different characters as the story progresses, I promise.

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!

**Chapter Seven: A Dramatic Entrance**

"Good morning!" announced Momoko, throwing open the door to Hiro's room. "It's a beautiful day and the sun is all shiny! Hey, sleepy, why are you still in bed?"

Pulling the covers off of her face, Hiro blinked blearily at the clock on the desk. It was barely five o'clock in the morning.

"Buh?" she asked resentfully.

Momoko made a little "tsk, tsk" sound with her teeth. "It's time to get up!" she insisted. "The early bird gets the, uh…the…" she floundered for the word, lost again in the throes of complicated idiomatic speech.

"The worm," suggested Masaru, sticking his head around the door. "The early bird gets the worm, right?"

"Ack!" squeaked Hiro, flinging the covers back over her and pulling her bare legs as far up on to the bed as she could. "Go 'way!"

Eventually, Hiro did manage to get out of bed. While Hiro sat at her desk, Momoko worked happily away on her makeup.

"Sorry you had to get up so early to do this," mumbled Hiro.

Momoko shook her head. "Oh no," she insisted. "Nope, it's no problem at all! I'm always up this early, anyway."

Hiro raised an eyebrow. _That_, she thought, _explains so much…_

"Oh, oh!" added Momoko, placing something small and sparkly on the desk next to Hiro's hand. "And I found you a present! It's a lucky butterfly for your hair. It's blue and your hair is sort of black and sort of blue, so it'll match!"

_That color scheme will make me look like a bruise_, _even before I've had the shit beaten out of me at course registration,_ reflected Hiro. She sat still anyway while Momoko perched the butterfly in her hair, just next to her ear. "Thank you," she said politely. "No, really, I'm sure I'll need all the luck I can get."

"We both will if we don't get going!" called Masaru from the hallway. "Jeez, Hiro, come on already! How long can this girly stuff even take?"

Momoko rolled her eyes. "Stupid boys," she sighed. Unexpectedly, Hiro found herself laughing.

A few minutes later, Hiro and Masaru signed out of the dorm and made their way into the street, to tackle whatever sort of horrors that the first day of the semester had in store for them.

"So," asked Hiro, "How intense is registration, really? I mean, I assume that Momoko was mostly joking about the whole fighting thing."_At least,_ she thought, _I hope she was. _Hiro tried not to look too desperate.

"Let me put it like this," replied Masaru slowly. "Last year, this guy Sato-kun and I came back with two black eyes each, and he had a broken finger from a door that someone slammed shut on him."

Hiro sighed. "Ah," she murmured. "I see. Well, I guess maybe it was a little too much to ask for. After all, Momoko doesn't seem much like the joking type."

"Nope," agreed Masaru. "She's very sincere. About, uh, everything. Of the two of us, I'm definitely more of the jokester type. Humor…it's kind of my thing, actually."

It occurred suddenly to Hiro that she'd never thought to find out what Masaru's artistic specialty was. "Are you a comedian?" she asked.

Masaru grinned. "Uh, something like that, I guess. If I had to put a label on it, I'd say that I'm more of the supporting cast."

"I don't follow," said Hiro, raising an eyebrow.

"Let's see, how can I put this?" Masaru frowned thoughtfully. "So, the way I see it, the world has three kinds of people, and so does the theater. There are the lead guys, the ones with all the important roles and lots of lines. Then there are the supporting guys, the actors who spend the whole time setting the stage and saying the right stuff to push the story along and get the lead guy from point A to point B. Oh, and then there's the audience, that's everybody else. You know, the ones who never do anything, but watch the whole time and then tell you all the stuff you did wrong."

"And…you're supporting cast?" asked Hiro, still not quite sure what exactly they were talking about. "Like, when you're in a play?"

"Yup!" agreed Masaru, nodding. "That's me. I'm pretty good at it, too. I can make anybody look good on stage, like, I know all of the lines in the whole show, so that if anybody forgets, I can fill it in and keep the scene moving. I can quick fix anything that goes wrong in a show. When somebody drops the ball, I pick it up, and no one notices a thing! While somebody else is in the spotlight, I'm figuring out how to make their scene the best it can be." He grinned proudly at her. "Oh, and the sidekick characters usually get the good jokes, too, so I guess that kind of a part of my gig, too."

Hiro frowned. "But don't you ever want to get the lead roles?" As far as she knew, that was what everyone wanted. Whenever she heard about a play being cast at her old school, all the girls had been fighting over who could play the leading lady, the princess or the queen. No one ever wanted to be the sister, or the maid. It just wasn't one of those things that people strove for.

"Aw, I dunno," said Masaru with a shrug. "Maybe once or twice, sure, but…I'm not gonna lie, being funny is fun. Who really wants to do all that serious stuff that the leads have to do, anyway? It's a lot of work and it's kind of a downer. Besides, my mom always used to tell me that you should find something you're good at and just stick to it. Hey, I'm good at this. What's wrong with that?"

By this time, they had reached the school building.

"What class are we going to, anyway?" asked Masaru. "I figure you should get to pick first, since you're new."

"We…don't actually have to go to the same classes," Hiro reminded him.

For some reason, that seemed to fluster Masaru a little. "Well, no, of course we don't," he agreed quickly. "I just thought, uh, that it'd be nice to have a friend in your first class, that's all. You know, might make it easier. Right?"

Hiro couldn't really argue with that. "Well," she told him, "I was thinking about trying for Introduction to World Drama. That's probably a little bit basic for you, but…"

"Hey great! No, that's great," interrupted Masaru. "I was totally thinking about taking that course; I hear it's a great time. You think it'll be mostly Western? That 'world' stuff usually is, but who knows? Let's see, that one was, um…" He consulted his course catalog. "Oh, right, third floor, room 321. That'll be pretty easy to remember, at least."

They entered the school, and rushed up three flights of stairs to the classroom. Masaru was obviously in a hurry, and Hiro had to really step to keep up. Then again, she thought, his legs were a lot longer than hers. He was probably pretty fast. That might help her out, assuming he didn't abandon her when people started rushing for the doors.

There was already a long line of people outside of classroom 321.

"Oh, wow, we're just in time," panted Masaru. "I thought we might be too late."

As far as Hiro could tell, they were too late. She definitely counted more than twenty people in that line. Then, suddenly, the door to the classroom opened, and Masaru grabbed on to the crook of her arm.

"Hang on," he said, as the students in line suddenly forsook their places and made a mad dash for the room. "Here we go!"

It was all, quite frankly, a bit of a maddening blur to poor Hiro, who felt herself knocked and jostled around as Masaru hauled her inexorably towards the doorway. One boy stuck out a leg and tried to trip her, but Masaru jabbed him in the stomach with one of his famed pointy elbows, and the boy fell back. Moments later, a girl grabbed on to Masaru's head and tried pulling him out of line by his hair. Hiro stamped down hard on her foot, hard, causing her to stumble and leaving the way clear for Masaru and Hiro to force their way finally into the class.

"Masaru Kotone," he shouted, as soon as the teacher's desk was in sight. "And my cousin, Hiro Kotone. Second years."

The teacher, who was a middle-sized white-haired woman wearing an alarming quantity of bright pink lipstick dutifully wrote their names down on the book in front of her, just as several other students were beginning to shove their way past the stragglers to join Masaru and Hiro at the desk.

"Phew," muttered Masaru in relief. "Nice, mission accomplished."

Hiro, who was sporting a couple of bruises in unexpected soft places, stared at the throng of students. "Oh…oh my god," she managed.

Masaru just grinned at her. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, pretty much. Come on, we better find some seats."


	10. Chapter Eight: A Tragic Surprise

**Chapter Eight: A Tragic Surprise**

"Welcome," began the teacher, in a droning, monotonous sort of voice that immediately reminded Hiro of just how early it was and how desperately she wanted to be back in bed. "I am Miss Maruyama, and this is Introduction to World Drama, where we will be taking an exciting journey together through the magical world of modern theater."

_No one_, thought Hiro, _should be able to use the phrase 'magical world' with that terribly bored and disinterested look on her face. Actually, that reminds me of someone else I met recently._ There was, now that Hiro came to think about it, something about the hooded lids and upright posture of Miss Maruyama that was definitely and almost disconcertingly familiar. Hiro tried to think of where exactly she'd seen this woman before.

"To begin our semester," continued the teacher didactically, "we will commence with reading a world famous passage by western playwright William Shakespeare, renowned for his exceptional language and excellent use of stock character stereotypes in fascinating and unexpected ways." She said the word "fascinating" as though she were remarking on the "fascinating" characteristics of the common stick insect that she'd found on the bottom of one old shoe. She then called out, "Kazoue-chan?"

A murmur rippled through the classroom ranks as Kazoue, Hiro's very own dorm advisor stood up from somewhere behind the teacher's desk. "Yes, Miss Maruyama," she murmured, stalking over to the students with her arms full of sheafs of paper.

"Oh," remarked Hiro in surprise. "But she's a third year, isn't she?"

"Yeah," agreed Masaru. "She's probably the classroom aide, or something. Actually, I forgot, but I think she said once that she had an aunt on campus. Maybe she and Miss Maruyama are related?"

_Well,_ thought Hiro, _that certainly seems likely. _Kazoue was walking past each of the desks, now, handing out one page to every student. As she passed by Hiro's desk, Hiro tried to smile at Kazoue, but the older girl registered no sign at all of recognition.

"Oh well," sighed Hiro. "Not exactly warm and fuzzy, is she?"

Masaru shrugged. "She probably doesn't realize it's you," he reminded her. "That's the goal, anyway."

Hiro honestly hadn't thought of that. In fact, she realized, not a single person in the classroom seemed to have noticed her at all. That realization came with a delighted little thrill, and she sat up a bit straighter in her chair, feeling suddenly a lot better about how this whole day was turning out. She could feel Momoko's lucky butterfly not quite cutting into her scalp behind the ear, and she wondered if maybe that luck was starting to rub off.

"Oh, good," Masaru was saying, as he read through his paper. "I was worried it was gonna be in English, and I don't read that at all, but…this is all in translation, see?"

Hiro glanced down at her own paper to find a copy of the speech from Shakespeare that Miss Maruyama had just been talking about.

"Ahem," the teacher began, raising her voice as she began to read. "Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day, to the last syllable of recorded time…"

Hiro felt her eyelids beginning to droop again. Miss Maruyama's voice was so soothing in an amazingly tedious way. All around her, other students seemed to be having the same problem. Many were yawning, or blinking and trying to get a hold of themselves as the ennui started to overcome them.

"Excuse me," murmured Kazoue, stepping over to the teacher's desk. "If you wouldn't mind…"

Miss Maruyama stopped reading and sighed. "Yes, yes, Kazoue, of course, if you like."

Now it was Kazoue's turn to clear her throat. "Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow," she murmured, "creeps in this petty pace from day to day."

Hiro's eyes snapped open again.

"To the last syllable of recorded time," continued Kazoue, "and all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing."

Kazoue put the paper down on the desk, and coughed. Realizing that her mouth was now hanging open slightly in shock, Hiro hurriedly closed it again.

"Wow," muttered Masaru appreciatively.

"Is…is that the same person?" asked Hiro. There had been something about the careful, focused way that Kazoue's tongue touched each consonant and syllable of the speech that had made every word send little shivers down Hiro's spine. There had been such a gloomily passionate wealth of expression in the older girl's voice, and in the way that she spoke the phrases "dusty death," "and "told by an idiot," with the rancor and disdain dripping out of every moment that she lingered over the language. Hiro was impressed. She was spellbound. She was also freaked out. Never in a million years would she have expected that kind of performance to come out of someone who was so clearly bored by everything she laid eyes on.

"She's good, isn't she?" asked Masaru. "Yeah, she always gets the big parts in the student directed shows. They say she has a knack for tragedy."

"She's very good," murmured Hiro. "She had me completely fooled."

The rest of the class stretched on and on, but Hiro wasn't really paying attention. She kept trying to catch Kazoue's eye, and was amazed by how the older girl went almost instantaneously back to zoning out over the heads of the students.

_Everyone here_, thought Hiro, _is really great at something. Momoko is amazing at makeup, even if that is something I never thought I'd care about. Ren is…well, okay, Ren is probably good at something, I mean, he does spend all of that time alone with his books, so he must be getting something out of it. Masaru sounds like some kind of hero, the way he says he can step and fix any play that goes wrong, and Kazoue…well, Kazoue is amazing. I've never seen someone take words and twist them like that before…or make them so sad and painful juts by reading them. Maybe it was a little scary, but it was also beautiful, in a creepy way._

Up to this moment, Hiro hadn't spent too much time worrying terribly about what it was that she'd end up doing with herself, here. Sure, she'd wondered at first if she even had any talents to tap into, although those concerns had quickly been swept out of the way by graver and more pressing feelings about how it was she'd even get by, surrounded by judgmental people who probably read newspapers.

_But if I could do something like that_, she told herself, _then nobody would care what I looked like, or who my father was. I'd be something special, something beautiful. _

As soon as class was over, she and Masaru left the room amidst the throng of other students. Hiro was only vaguely aware that she had other classes to choose that day, and probably other similar battles to fight. She was still lost in thought about Kazoue.

"Hey," said Masaru, peering into her face. "You okay? You look, uh…well, weird. Oh, crap, did we forget breakfast? We totally forgot breakfast, and you aren't even used to the Iwasaki craziness yet. You're probably exhausted and hungry. Sorry, Hiro…"

"No," insisted Hiro, shaking her head. "Its fine, I'm not-!"

"Come on." Masaru started off back down the stairs. "We've got like twenty minutes, so it's cafeteria time."

Hiro didn't argue. It was true that she'd skipped breakfast that morning, and the more she thought about it, the hungrier she got.

Still, even as they left the building, the final words of that Shakespeare speech kept ringing around in Hiro's head.

_A tale told by an idiot, _she thought. _Full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. _

_What,_ she wondered, _do I signify? _


	11. Chapter Nine: M-Path

**Author's Note: **Please don't despair! I have not abandoned **Allelujah.** I actually wrote a bunch of these chapters down in my notebook over the week, and am just taking a few minutes here and there to type them up. I'll write some new **Allelujah** as soon as the weekend is over, but my friend is visiting and it's hard to come up with new material when you're busy entertaining guests, right? Thanks so much for your patience, and for continuing to read! It makes me so very happy!

**Chapter Nine: M-Path**

Halfway back to the dorm after that day's classes had ended, Hiro heard the sound of someone crying.

"Masaru," she began, but then stopped. Something wasn't quite right. What she was hearing was definitely the sound of tears, or rather of someone wailing piteously over and over again, but it was…strange wailing, like each outburst was identical to the one before it. It sounded odd, repetitive, almost as though someone had been recorded crying and then that sound had been placed on loop, playing the exact same set of sounds and sobs repeatedly for minutes on end.

"Over there," said Masaru, pointing. Hiro followed his finger, and then saw a girl in the Iwasaki uniform, kneeling on the ground in the middle of the street with tears streaming down her face while she let out those creepily mundane wails.

"We should go and see if she's okay," said Hiro, starting over towards the girl. "Maybe she's hurt…why is no one stopping?" People, she realized, were passing by on all sides, completely ignoring the crying girl. Sure, Hiro had never exactly been impressed by humanity's overall compassion, but this was ridiculous. No one was even looking at this girl. It was almost as if she wasn't really there.

"Nah, forget it," muttered Masaru. "This kind of thing happens a lot, here. Nothing we can do about it. She won't talk to you if you try."

Hiro blinked. "Why not?" she insisted. "Maybe we can help."

It was only when she got close enough to see the girl's face that the little shiver shot down Hiro's spine. The girl's eyes, she realized, were wide open, and tears were flowing down her cheeks and into her hair, but…there was something horrible about those eyes. They were empty, vacant and staring, and none of the sorrow evident in the tears seemed to have made it into the expression in those eyes.

"Oh my god," whispered Hiro.

Masaru took her by the arm and pulled her away. "It's like I said," he told her. "We see this kind of thing all the time. I guess maybe it's because this is an art school, right? Lots of performers wandering around, trying to get their death scenes right, or just looking for attention, maybe. Leave her alone. Trust me, she'll be fine."

Hiro wasn't too sure about that. Masaru must have seen it in her face, because he sighed. "Fine, you know what we'll do? We'll get a teacher. That sound good to you?"

They spent the next few minutes wandering through the nearest set of classrooms until they found some teacher to tell about the crying girl. When Masaru, Hiro, and the grumbling teacher got back out on to the street, however, the girl was already gone.

"Hey guys!" called Momoko, running up to them with a huge smile on her face, and a huge floral band-aid stuck on to her forehead. "How'd it go, today?"

Hiro frowned, still looking for the crying girl. "Oh," she mumbled distractedly. "It was fine…"

"Yeah," agreed Masaru. "Hey, and your makeup job really worked! Nobody noticed Hiro at all! Right, Hiro?"

Hiro turned around, shaking her head. "Right, right. Thank you." Narrowing her eyes at the band-aid, she asked, "Momoko, what happened to you?"

Momoko shrugged. "I hit a reaaaally big guy with my makeup bag!" she told them.

Hiro frowned. "And what did he hit you with?"

"Um…I don't know," admitted Momoko. "Everything got dark all of a sudden."

"Are…are you okay?" Hiro blinked at her. Momoko gave her an enthusiastic thumbs-up sign.

Masaru sighed. "Come on, team, good work today. Let's…just go home, okay?"

"You know," said Momoko excitedly, as they turned the corner and headed back towards the dorm. "I saw one of those dealers sneaking around behind the theater after class this morning."

Masaru sounded surprised. "Really? No way, but…I thought they rounded all those guys up last week, didn't they? Wasn't that why there was this big police presence on campus?"

Momoko just shrugged. "I don't know…but he was there. He was all creepy looking and scary, and when I walked back I saw him start talking to this girl from my class, but she ran away."

Hiro frowned. "Wait, what kind of dealers?" she asked. "What are you talking about?"

"M-Path!" announced Momoko. "It's this new drug that just everybody's taking."

"I'm not taking it," muttered Masaru."You'd better not be taking it either."

Momoko completely ignored him. "Apparently," she went on, "it makes you feel things. Like, everything! Lots of people in the theater like it, because it helps them have all these emotions and put on really big, cool performances, cause they can, um…get in touch with what the character's really feeling, I think. Right?" She turned to Masaru for support, but he just shook his head at her.

"It's bad stuff," he informed them. "Really bad stuff. It messes with your head. Anyway, real actors don't need drugs to figure the character part out, okay? Anyway, Hiro, if anybody tries to sell you any M-Path, just stay away from it. Actually, you go tell somebody, like a teacher. We've been trying to get all those weird M-Path dealers off the campus, but they keep popping up anyway. Don't even know where the stuff originally comes from, or who's making it."

Hiro was honestly surprised, and a little impressed. Up until this moment, she'd never seen Masaru look so serious about anything. "Is it really that terrible for you?" she asked. "What are the side effects?"

Momoko laughed. "No one knows! Maybe there aren't any. Masaru-kun's just mad because he doesn't want the druggie boys and girls to get better roles than him, right?"

Masaru glared at her. "That's…that's got nothing to do with it! It's like I said, real acting's about character…I mean, about your character, character from the inside, not some stupid pills or whatever. It's not acting if the drugs are doing it for you."

They walked on without speaking for a few moments, Masaru's steps sounding heavier against the pavement as he apparently tried to stalk off the anger.

"So," murmured Hiro eventually, into what had become a very uncomfortable silence. "You're saying this M-Path drug is a performance enhancer, right? Get it? Performance enhancer, because it makes your stage performances better?"

Masaru stopped and gave her an odd look. "Um…was that supposed to be a joke?"

Hiro felt herself turning a bit red. Momoko giggled. Even Masaru had to smile.

It was only much later that night, when Hiro was alone in her bedroom that she started to think seriously about the drug called M-Path.

She had just emptied out the contents of her backpack on to the floor, and was in the process of reading through the homework that she and Masaru had received from Intro to World Drama. Their assignment for the following day's class period was to read through and prepare a speech from "Hamlet," another famous Shakespeare play. Taking a deep breath, Hiro tried reading it aloud.

"To be or not to be," she told the blank dormitory walls. "That is the question. Whether tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against…"

She stopped, disappointed by the sound of her own voice. These were beautiful words, sad words, poignant words, and all she seemed to be able to do was to rattle them off the page and let them evaporate meaninglessly in thin air. They didn't sound like anything when she said them, and didn't feel like anything, either. She could just imagine an audience trying not to doze off while she read, or turning to talk to their friends about the latest sports match or their favorite TV show while Hiro completely failed to bare her soul onstage.

"To be or not to be," she began again. "That is the question."

_The question_, came a treacherous little voice in the back of Hiro's mind, _is what the hell I think I'm really playing at, here. I'm not an actor. I'm not a performer. I'm not an artist. I'm just some girl who had to ship out of her hometown fast, before anybody started throwing stones at her windows or trying to blow up her car in revenge for what her father did to their father. I don't have anything like what the rest of the students here have. There's no way around that. I don't even know where to start._

She thought about Kazoue, and the way that even that apparently emotionless girl had managed to move Hiro's heart with the way she read those powerful words. She thought about Masaru, and the pride that he took in being able to call himself an "actor." She thought about Momoko, and the way that Momoko had managed to change Hiro's life in just a few hours with the skills and talents that she had at the makeup table.

_I want something like that_, she told herself. _I want to know how to be that kind of magical. _

It was only then that she found herself thinking of the envelope in the trash can, and the big pink pill that had the letters MPATH printed on it. She actively tried not to think about it, but now that she'd remembered it's being there, its image in her mind wouldn't leave her alone.

_What was it that Momoko said about M-Path?_ she asked herself. _That it helps you feel things? The kind of things Kazoue feels, maybe, when she reads? _

Putting the paper down, Hiro went over to the trashcan, retrieved the envelope, and shook the pill out into her hand. It lay there in her palm, looking pink and innocuous, almost like a child's cough drop, or a pregnant woman's vitamin supplement.

_This_, she reminded herself, _is the wrong choice. If anybody knows how bad this kind of stuff can get, then it's me. I know what drugs can do to you. I know what they can turn you into. I know. But…at the same time, I want to know more. I want to know if I can feel…like them. What if I can't? What if that's just not a part of me? How will I ever find out, if not like this? Aw jeez, Masaru's gonna kill me. But I guess what he doesn't know can't really hurt him, right? Or me. _

With a resigned little shrug, Hiro opened her mouth, and popped the pill into it. It was definitely hard to swallow, and she almost gagged, although in the end she did manage the job.

For a few minutes, nothing happened. _I guess maybe that answers my question. _

Then, all of a sudden, in a terrifying, mind-numbing rush, there was…everything.


	12. Chapter Ten: I Can't Fight This Feeling

**Chapter Ten: I Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore**

It wasn't an explosion, but was instead more like a slow, sickening, methodical build up as the feelings and images began to take their place, one on top of the other, filling each space in Hiro's increasingly terrified mind. First there was the realization, the desperation, and the depressing knowledge that she'd never, ever be able to achieve that level of excellence that the other students in the school were striving for. All the doubts that she'd been casually entertaining about her own worth and her own abilities suddenly flared up and faced her, and she was plunged into a pit of despair that told her nothing she did could ever, ever be even close to enough.

Then came the anger. _Why? _she asked herself. _Why not? Why am I not good enough? What did I do wrong? _The anger built into a rage, and the rage into an agony until she found herself gritting her teeth and clutching madly at the covers on the bed, trying somehow to squeeze or force out the unmitigated fury that was overtaking her. She screamed inside her head that it wasn't fair, none of it was fair, and that she deserved better and that none of them could ever understand.

Finally, there was the sadness. The moment she'd apparently managed to master even a bit of the anger that was threatening to turn her entire world into a maddening shade of blood-red passion, the sadness and the loneliness came creeping in at the cracks. _Yes, _she told herself. _Yes, they'll never understand. No one will ever understand what it's like for me. They'll never even try to understand, because I'm not worth understanding. I'm completely alone…I've always been alone, and I always will be alone. No amount of special talent could change that, even if I had it, which I don't._

Her head was aching now, on fire with the pain and panic of so many powerful feelings all breaking on her at one and the same time. She clutched at her temples, fell to her knees and closed her eyes, feeling like she needed to scream or begin throwing things to release some of the tension and the frustration of all of these pent up feelings that were overcrowding and torturing her. Bile began to rise in her throat, and her knees started to wobble as her body and mind did the only thing that they possibly could under the circumstances; they prepared to shut down.

Just then, however, in that last moment when everything inside her came alive and tried to overpower her, something broke through. It was something deep inside her soul, some part of her that had managed to hold out against the onslaught of miserable emotions It was something that she'd barely been aware of in the very back corner of her unconscious mind, which now faced outward and insisted on making itself heard.

_You are more than this,_ said that tiny, undaunted part of Hiro's now half-crazed mind. _You are more than your animal emotions, and you are more than what you can't help but feel. It's time to get it together and retake control. Take a deep breath, Endo. _

Hiro did the best she could to heed her own advice. She tried taking one deep, shuddering breath.

Then, she started to run.  
It wasn't a conscious choice, and she wasn't entirely sure if there was anything she could possibly run away from. She just knew that she had to get rid of the feelings, had to shake them or leave them behind.

_I am better than this_, she kept repeating in the back of her mind, as the rage, misery, and desperation all tried to force themselves overtop of everything else and leave her mind wasted in their wake. _I am more than this. I am who I am. _

_I am thou,_ said another voice, a voice that somehow came from Hiro's mind without actually being a part of it that she recognized. _Thou art I. _

By this time, Hiro had run all the way up the first flight of stairs, and was making her way across the hallway of the main floor. She came to the second stairwell and climbed that as well, two steps at a time. Somehow, the running was helping her think, instead of feel. It was a repetitive, purely physical exercise, a motion that insisted she focus on the space in front of her and the movement of one foot, then another. It was soothing in a redundant way, and she craved it. She ran faster, and overtook the third flight of stairs.

_Thou has awakened to the strength that lives inside, _said the inner voice. _Thou hast overcome the baser instinct, and forged the weapon with which to combat the abyss that dwells within you. _

Racing up the stairs on to the third floor landing, Hiro's mind suddenly gave out on her. The rush of feelings evaporated in a sudden and nauseating moment of clarity, and she sagged against the wall, both her legs and her mind totally exhausted and unable to press on.

It was several long minutes, maybe even hours before she felt strong enough to stand up and return to her dorm room.

"Never again," she mumbled to herself, her hands shaking as she crawled into bed with all of her clothes still on. "Never…never again. Oh my god…Masaru was right. It's horrible, horrible stuff. Just…ugh. I didn't know any drug could make me feel…like that. Nothing should be able to do that."

Slowly, carefully, she staggered back from the third floor, down four flights of stairs until she was back in the basement.

_I wonder if anybody heard me, _she thought. _I'm sure I woke some people up…jeez. The sooner I get back in bed, the better. Is it…really over now?_ _Please, let it be over now…_

Luckily for Hiro, apparently it was. Whatever the astounding effects of the drug had been, they really did seem to have worn off, and although she slept fitfully and intermittently, at least she did sleep.

The next morning, Hiro awoke to the sound of a familiar knock at the door.

"Helloooo, Hiro-san!" called Momoko. "Wakey wakey! Makeup time!"

She seriously contemplated not getting up. Last nights' horrors had been too much for her, and her sleep had been fraught with nightmares of giant red monsters sobbing brokenly and screaming insults while they ripped her limb from limb.

_Maybe_, she thought, _if I just tell them that I'm not feeling well, or that I had a rough night and didn't sleep much, they'll let me alone. After all, missing one day of classes can't be that bad, right?_

Then she remembered the disgusted look on Masaru's face when he'd started talking about M-Path, and she began to feel really guilty. She'd never be able to face him, she realized, without putting this entirely behind her and promising herself that she'd never, ever do it again. Putting it behind her meant moving past it, and moving past it meant, essentially, deciding that it didn't matter and had never really happened. That meant that she'd have to get out of bed, like it or not. If it had never happened, then she had no good excuse for skipping class.

"Sorry, I'm coming," she told Momoko, hopping out of bed. "Just…just a minute." She grabbed some pajamas and hurried into them, frantically trying to give the impression that nothing at all was the matter.

"Okay," she called, when she had her clothes sorted out. "You can come in, now!"

Momoko did come in, her hands full of little makeup bottles. "Good morning!" she announced cheerily. "Ready for your second day of Iwasaki? I know I am!"

The band-aid, Hiro noticed, had slipped off of Momoko's forehead during the night. Now, there was an angry cut visible where that big guy had apparently socked her.

"I don't know if anyone told you," Momoko chattered, as she smeared the makeup on to Hiro's face. "The auditions for the big second semester play are tonight!"

"Oh," muttered Hiro. "Are they?" She didn't seem to be able to muster up any more emotion than that.

Momoko, however, apparently didn't notice. "Mmhmm! I think this semester we're doing fairytales! Isn't that sweet? I love fairytales! They have princesses, and princes, and dragons…oh, I can't wait to do the dragon, it's always fun to get to use my green stuff!"

Hiro had an image suddenly of Momoko forcing a pair of bright green-colored contacts into the eyes of some poor, unsuspecting first year. There had been green glitter too, come to think of it, in Momoko's makeup box, and a set of what had looked like fake warts.

"So, you're not trying out, then?" asked Hiro.

Momoko shook her head. "Of course not, silly. How can I be onstage and backstage at the same time? And then who will make the princesses pretty?"

_Or make the dragons scary,_ thought Hiro. _Okay, fair point. _

"Oh," said Momoko, "but you should try out! Yes yes, and I have the script for the show right here!"

Hiro watched while Momoko fidgeted around in her bag for several minutes, pulling out a number of fake noses, moustaches, and bottles of noxious looking multi-colored liquid before she eventually found what she'd been searching for.

"Here it is!" she crowed, passing a worn packet of papers over to Hiro. "But don't move your head too much while you read, okay? Cause now I'm gonna do under the eyes."

Dutifully trying to follow Momoko's instructions, Hiro ran her eyes over the first page of the script. Apparently, the play was called "Once Upon a Happily Ever After," which was a ridiculous and childish title of Hiro had ever heard one. Still, she turned the page and moved on to the list of characters.

It might, she thought, be fun to do something like this. Sure, it didn't look as though this was anything nearly as magical or impressive as the sorts of things that she was reading in her Intro to World Drama class, but maybe that was for the best.

_Maybe_, she thought, _this kind of fairytale thing will be easy enough that even someone like me can do it. I don't think I ever want to see another strong feeling ever again, actually…_

"Hey, Hiro!" called Masaru from the hallway. "Are you done yet?"

Hiro frowned down at the script.

**Author's Note: **Hello again, lovely readers! Here we have choice number two! Again, depending on what you choose, you'll get a different chapter (or two.) Some choices will let you meet brand new characters, while others will get you better acquainted with ones that you've already met. I was thinking of giving a hint, but that would make it less fun…er, for me, at least.

Here's the question:

Hiro has the option to try out for one of these three roles. Which one should she try for?

The Princess

The Fairy Godmother

The Lady's Maid

The Dragon

Note: Think carefully about this one, it ends up being a pretty big choice, character wise.

Thanks so very much for reading, and I really, honestly hope that you're having as much fun reading this as I am writing it!


	13. Chapter Eleven: Maidenhood

**Author's Note: **Okay, tomorrow's gonna be an **Allelujah** update day, but this was fun for a weekend, right? Well, I had fun! Anyway, back to your regularly scheduled updating program.

Oh, but first, here's the scene that you all selected by majority vote! Congratulations, this time you get a brand new character! Huzzah! Oh, I think I may be enjoying this too much…I love seeing what sorts of things you guys pick!

**Chapter Eleven: The Simple Joys of Maidenhood**

After splitting up for several separate classes throughout the day, Hiro and Masaru met back again at the base of the first floor stairwell in the school building. All of the classes had finally let out, and students were making their way hurriedly out of the school building in excited droves.

"Masaru!" called Hiro. At first, he didn't seem to hear her. His head was buried in what appeared to be a copy of a script, and she had to call his name twice, and then tap him once on the shoulder before he even looked up.

"Oh,! Hiro! Hi!" For some reason, Masaru hastily shoved the script into his bag as soon as he saw her. "Sorry, guess I was zoning out. Class is over, huh? You want to get some dinner before the auditions start?"

Hiro shrugged. "Sure, that would be nice, if we have time. You're going to the auditions, too? Good, I was hoping you would be."

Masaru looked almost offended. "Of course I am. This is the big second semester play, all the serious actors are going out for this one."

"You're hardly what I'd call a serious actor," remarked Hiro, grinning.

She'd meant it as a joke, a reference to Masaru's penchant for playing humorous sidekick characters, and she'd thought he'd probably appreciate her attempt at humor. She was very surprised, therefore, when Masaru narrowed his eyes at her and his years began to turn a bit red.

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" he growled.

Hiro's mouth fell open. "I…I just meant," she insisted carefully, "that you're the sort of person who plays funny parts….at least, that's what you told me. Funny and serious…you know, they're opposites. It, um, was a joke, sort of."

Slowly, the clouded look on Masaru's face began to clear, and he bit his lip and stared down at his shoes. "Right, uh, sorry," he muttered. "Yeah, of course, that was, um…crap." He sighed. "No, really, I'm sorry. I guess I didn't sleep so great last night. It's making me all…weird, maybe."

_You too, huh?_ Thought Hiro, as they set off together for the cafeteria. "Don't worry," she told him, giving him a reassuring little clap on the shoulder. "I get it. You were probably up late reading those lines, weren't you? Actually, now that you mention it, I didn't sleep that well myself last night."

The auditions were in the theater, which was in a separate building around the back of the main school building. Hiro got there just in time to see a bunch of anxious looking students pacing back and forth in between rows and through aisles of purple-upholstered seats. There were far more students than Hiro had imagined, and she felt her heart sink a little bit as she forced herself to recognize for the first time since that morning that she probably didn't have a very good shot at this. After all, it would be one thing it there wasn't a significant pool of students to choose from, but with all of these people auditioning, she'd be lucky if the teachers in charge of the thing even remembered her name.

_And where_, she asked herself, _is Masaru? I thought he said he'd be at the auditions, but I don't see him anywhere! I hope he didn't forget…but somehow, that doesn't seem like him. I wonder where he could be…_

Even as she was wondering, a door closed hard behind her, and Hiro turned around to see a spindly male teacher with almost no hair and a fiercely hooked nose came striding into the room.

"Please," he barked. "Take a seat, everyone. Magic can't happen in the midst of unmitigated chaos!"

Murmuring to themselves and to each other, each student slowly found his or her way into one of the chairs. Left standing alone, Hiro quickly grabbed the nearest seat, not eager to be singled out long before the auditions even started.

"Oh," murmured the boy sitting next to her. "I've never seen you before. That's so strange. I'm usually the best at picking out the pretty ones. You must be new."

Hiro turned around, and found herself gazing into a set of remarkably shrewd and calculating blue eyes, eyes that were now giving her entire face an uncomfortable once-over. The eyes were attached to the face of a pale-skinned boy, with high cheekbones and what were, quite honestly, perfect ringlets of golden hair. He was beautiful, in a way that was somehow masculine and feminine at the same time, and deeply appealing in a very basic and ungendered way.

"Um," said Hiro.

"What's your name, pretty one?" asked the beautiful boy. "No, wait, that's wrong, I'm sorry. That's very impolite of me. I'm supposed to introduce myself first. I'm Shun Oshida, second year. And…you are?"

Hiro wasn't quite sure how to react to this. In her entire life, she'd never been referred to as "pretty." Frankly, it should have flattered her, and she knew that, but something about it made her uncomfortable. Maybe it was the weirdly discerning way that he was looking at her, like she was some kind of priceless piece on an auction block. It was disconcerting, and if this was the way that boys looked at girls they thought were attractive, then Hiro made the decisive snap judgment that she didn't much care for it.

"Hiro Kotone," she told him quietly, making sure to deliver the line with as much ice in her voice as possible. She really wasn't used to being cold to people. Scaring them away had ever been much of a problem before."I'm glad to meet you," she managed, unable to stop herself from sneaking in just that little bit of pleasant formality. _After all, _she thought, _I shouldn't actually be rude to him, just…stand-offish. Yeah, Something like that. _

"Not as glad as I am to meet you," smiled Shun. "Hiro…no, it doesn't suit you. Yours should be a more elaborate, feminine name, I think. Either way, though, you're a breath of fresh air. Until just now, I was starting to think that this play was going to be boring…but now, I'm not so certain. The pleasure's all mine, Hiro-chan. Honestly."

Hiro opened her mouth to say something back, hopefully something witty and sufficiently chilling. She was saved from having to think up an answer, however, because the teacher chose that moment to step up on to the stage and begin speaking.

"The next set of auditions," he instructed them, "will be for four specific roles. At this time, I am interested in hearing those students who would like to read for the parts of Fairy Godmother, Minako the Lady's Maid, Tohru the Wicked King and Ryuu the Dragon. All other roles will be auditioning with Miss Yukimura in the backstage classroom. If you're planning to audition for those other roles, then you're in the wrong place, and I suggest you move quickly to where you need to be."

_Ah, _thought Hiro. _That must be where Masaru is. Well, I guess I'm on my own for this one after all. _

"The dragon has a name?" muttered Shun, sounding annoyed "Why are we evening auditioning people for that part? All the dragon has to do is roar. It's not rocket science, jeez."

"I take it that you're here to audition for the Wicked Kig, then," said Hiro.

Shun grinned at her. "Of course. The villain's the only part worth playing. Lots of lines, lots of stage time, and the best costumes, too. Besides, I hate all that goody two-shoes stuff about romance and friendship. It's so cliché and kiddie. Being evil's where the fun's at. There's much more creative freedom there, anyway."

_I've heard of this, _ thought Hiro. _Casting someone in the role they were born to play…that's called "typecasting' isn't it? Masaru would say that this guy isn't a real actor, because he wouldn't be doing any actual acting. He wouldn't have to. He's got "total sleazebag" written all over him. _

_But, _said another part of her mind, making an unwelcome contribution to the inner monologue, _he said that you're pretty, and he's just gorgeous. I mean, come on, let's no lie to ourself, the guy's dreamy as heck. It's nice to be noticed by an attractive guy, even if he's not exactly a knight in shining armor. _

"What part of you going out for?" asked Shun.

Hiro had to consult her script to get the name right. "Minako," she said eventually. "The Lady's Maid. I thought, since this is my first play, maybe I'd have a better chance at a smaller part, and some of her dialogue does look like fun. She's snarky…and I like that."

A big, almost wolfish grin spread across Shun's face. "Oh, perfect," he muttered. "Snarky, huh? Oh, yeah, I like that too, I definitely do. Man, this jus gets better and better, I am so glad I didn't decide to blow this audition off."

"What-?" began Hiro, but again, she was cut off.

"Everyone," called the teacher, "please turn to pages fifteen and sixteen in your script. That will be Act I, Scene III, and the first encounter between Minako and the Wicked King."

Dutifully, Hiro began turning pages, until she came to the indicated scene. It was the moment in the play when King Tohru, in order to try and learn the whereabouts of the princess, attemptsed to win his way into either the heart or the bed of Maid Minako, depending upon your interpretation. It was a slightly uncomfortable scene, although possibly the most interesting one in the whole play, and Hiro had frankly been hoping that she wouldn't have to perform it for the audition. One of the innocent little interactions between Minako and the Princess would have been much easier for her to pull off without any practice. This would be a challenge, and in front of so many hostile people competing for the same role…

"Will Shun Oshida and Hiro Kotone please come to the stage?" asked the teacher.

_I have the worst luck_, reflected Hiro, as she and a very pleased looking Shun made their way up the steps at the side of the stage.


	14. Chapter Twelve: Full Contact Theater

**Author's Note: **Okay, so this will be a multiple update day. I've got two more updates for **Allelujah** to type up, and one more update for this story as well. Not sure how much will actually get from the notebook to the computer tonight, but I'll definitely be posting at least something else later.

…after I take a twenty minute nap, my head is killing me. They're doing work on my roof and all that banging…ugh. Back in an hour.

Thanks so much for being patient with me.

**Chapter Twelve: Full Contact Theater Sports**

"Very well," said the teacher, making a little note on a clipboard and then fixing a pair of only vaguely interested eyes on his two students. "Mr. Oshida, please take it from King Tohru's entrance."

_At least_ thought Hiro, grasping at anything that might look like a bright side, _I don't have to start the scene. Maybe if he's good at this, I'll be able to follow his lead. That's something, anyway."_

With a truly dangerous glint in his eye, Shun took one step across the stage and closed the gap between himself and Hiro. There was something about the way he moved that was overtly seductive, like he'd pulled it straight out of a cheesy spy thriller, and yet even as she recognized that, Hiro felt a little shiver run down her spine. It was a shiver that meant only one thing to a girl of her age. That was embarrassing, but also annoying.

_Not the time for romance, Hiro_, she reminded herself. _Not here, not now, and not with this asshat. Focus!_

Shun gave her a mischievous little smile. He opened his mouth just wide enough to flash her a glimpse of perfect white teeth. Hiro found herself holding her breath and let out one exasperated exhalation, trying to force herself to stay on task.

Then, Shun spoke.

"My dear!" he bellowed. "You look so tired and weary after your long day's work! Pray, take a seat by me and let me ease your burden. Come, come, be not afraid of my rank, no, nor of my age, for both those qualities are but pale and worthless shadows when held up against the backdrop of your wondrous beauty!"

Hiro winced. It wasn't, she had to admit, the most well-written line in the world. In fact, it was cheesy as hell. That, however, wasn't the problem here. The problem was that Shun was so alarmingly loud! Every word he spoke was a little bit louder than the one before, as though he was trying to demonstrate a range of emotion just by steadily ratcheting up the volume of his voice. Even the slightest, most unsubtle semi-nuance of the words was completely lost in all of that noise.

He's trying _too hard_, realized Hiro. _Way too hard. Could he be nervous, too? You'd never guess by looking at him…_

Belatedly, she realized that the teacher was watching her expectantly. She was supposed to deliver the next line.

"Oh," she mumbled, fidgeting with her script and suddenly feeling unusually conscious of the state of her hair. "Um, okay, yeah, uh…my lord, you flatter me! I am but a humble serving maid, a drooping flower in the garden of my golden lady, the sun! Your words are lost on one as plain and simple as I am like to be."

_Was it my imagination, _wondered Hiro, _or did the teacher just nod to himself? And what's he writing down on his clipboard? Oh jeez…_

"You do yourself a wrong, precious maiden!" thundered Shun. This time, Hiro was ready for the voice. She managed not to flinch too much, and even maintained something like eye contact while he roared into her face. "You are like the moon, only visible when the sun is gone, but then more radiant than she could ever be! Sit down, sit down, and let me praise your beauty, for by my honor it deserves all the praise that I can muster to my lips!"

Hiro opened her mouth to deliver the next line, but ended up squeaking with surprise instead as Shun suddenly reached out and caressed her cheek with the back of one hand. The contact with electric, sharp, and totally unwelcome, and she jumped back a couple of paces and almost ended up falling off the stage.

"M-my lord, you are too bold!" she managed.

"Your eyes could make my bolder," shouted Shun, his other hand drifting dangerously towards her waist.

"I mean you go too far!" She insisted. "My honor cannot endure it!"

Hiro was now steadily backing up across the stage, doing her best to keep her distance from Wicked King Shun.

"My honor would but add to yours," insisted Shun, advancing on her, step for step, until she had no farther to go. Hiro found herself on the lip of the stage, with nowhere else to run and a sense of righteous indignation beginning to burn hot and bright inside her uncomfortable soul. He was ruining the audition for her! He was making her look like a complete idiot in front of all of these people!

"Without me," murmured Shun, both hands tightening around her waist as he prepared to pull her closer, "you are nothing. With me, you could be-!"

SMACK. Hiro, accustomed to being on the defensive due to her multiple months of getting picked on at school, wasn't used to having to hold back. Acting quickly was usually the key to convincing the other guy or girl that she wasn't a kid to be messed with. Before she'd had a chance to stop herself, or had even considered if it was worth trying to stop herself, Hiro had smacked Shun full across the face, and it wasn't a little girly slap, either. He grabbed for his cheek with one hand, and Hiro could see the large red finger marks spreading across it.

She wanted to be sorry. She really did. She wasn't.

_It's no use,_ she decided. _Anyway, it's not like he wasn't asking for it…still, I guess that'll probably cost me the audition. Oh well. There's always next year, maybe? Oh, and Masaru did say that some of the students direct plays, so maybe all hope isn't lost. _

It was only then that Hiro realized someone was clapping. Looking up suddenly at the teacher, she saw that it was him. That is, it was him and also several of the students who were still watching from the audience, some looking pained and some looking delighted, but all of them looking at least slightly impressed.

"Oh," murmured Hiro, in shock.

"Heh," muttered Shun. Still holding his face, he walked up to stand beside her, now talking again his normal, much softer and less jarring offstage voice. "Told you this day kept getting better and better. You and I should definitely do this again sometime."

"I hit you," Hiro reminded him.

Shun shrugged. "So, you're a method actor," he said, sounding unconcerned.

_That, _thought Hiro, _wasn't acting. _

"And besides," he went on, "I like a girl who puts some passion into her art. Next time, though, do me a favor and make it a stage slap? Do you know how to do that? Hey, maybe I could teach you, give you some private lessons in full contact theater sports."

Hiro shook her head as she hopped of the stage and retook her seat. "No thanks," she insisted. "I'm good."

After the rest of the auditioners had taken their turns, and the teacher had dismissed them for the evening, Hiro hurried out before Shun had a chance to catch up with her. He was making eyes at her like he might offer to walk her home, and she didn't love the idea of heading back towards the dorm in the dark with him. It wasn't that she was really afraid of what he might do. He was, she decided, probably harmless, if smarmy and a bit too handsy for her tastes. It was just that she'd discovered that evening how little she could trust her own violent reflexes when it came to hands that strayed too far into her discomfort zone. There wouldn't be anyone applauding this time if she wound up putting Shun in the hospital.

It was only when she was already halfway down the street and the dorm was in sight that Hiro heard the whispers. They were coming from one shadowy corner of the overhang that covered the school building, and as Hiro looked around to see who was whispering, she was surprised to see Masaru, deep in unintelligible conversation with some creepy looking character in a grey hoodie. Their faces were very close to each other, and they were talking hurriedly and heatedly. Masaru looked angry.

Remembering what Momoko had said about the strangely frequent muggings that had been taking place across campus, Hiro didn't hesitate to step under the overhang and interrupt.

"Masaru," she said.

He almost jumped out of his skin and spun immediately around to face her.

"H-hey, Hiro-san!" he stammered. "You've got a way of sneaking up on a guy, jeez…uh…auditions over already? So…how'd it go?"

Almost as soon as Masaru began talking to Hiro, the boy in the hoodie faded away, disappearing into the shadows and getting lost somewhere out of sight. Hiro breathed a little sigh of relief.

"What's going on?" she asked. "He wasn't one of those weird guys, was he? You know, like the one who was giving you trouble that first day?"

Masaru just grinned a little strangely at her. "Um…well, he sure is weird, right? But, nah, wasn't any trouble. I'm fine, see? No big deal! He's just this guy I know, that's all. Why, you looking for another excuse to beat the crap out of somebody?"

That reminded Hiro of what had happened at auditions, and the way she'd inadvertently struck Shun in the face. She started to tell Masaru about it, and wasn't too surprised when he started laughing in response.

"Shun Oshida? Seriously? Like that guy ever had a chance at a big part…talk about creepy people. You hit him? Like, really hit him? I hope it was a good one. Man, I knew all along you were my hero, Hiro…get it?"

"Yes," sighed Hiro. "Yes, I get it. You know, that's probably the sixth or seventh time you've made that joke…today."


	15. Chapter Thirteen: Persona

**Author's Note: **Another chapter! Huzzah productivity!

Since a few of you have mentioned it, I thought I'd say in the author's note: Yes, this is a story about an art school, and the primary focus of most of the main characters in this story is the theater. There will be other kinds of artists as well showing up, but a great many of the interactions and scenes will take place in a theater setting. If you are not interested in reading about theater scenes, then…alas, I fear that this may not be the story for you. Although I do give a great many choices, because it's fun for me and for you, I have already completed the main plotline for this story, and that is not likely to change.

Thank you for understanding, and for all of your reading and wonderful, helpful comments!

And now, enough chatter, here's the chapter.

**Chapter Thirteen: Persona**

As soon as they got back to the dorm, Masaru made a beeline for his bedroom.

"Sorry," he told Hiro, "but, um, I'm gonna go practice my lines. Just, you know, in case they call me back to read again."

Hiro frowned. "But didn't you already audition?"

"Yeah," agreed Masaru, "I did, just now. Sometimes, though, if they want to cast you, they'll have you come back and read again to see how you fit in with their other favorites."

Hiro thought about that. _There's no way I would get called back, right? _she asked herself. _I did totally screw up that audition…and I did punch that boy in the face, so it's not like I'd ever be a favorite, not after that. Oh god, I really, really hope I don't have to do it all again…that would be torture. One audition is more than enough!_

"Well," she told Masaru politely, "I'm sure you'll get called back."

He gave her a grateful little grin. "Thanks for the faith, Hiro. Anyway, I want to be ready, just in case. So…night."

Masaru hurried off to his room, leaving Hiro alone in the hall. The dorm doors opened behind her, and Kazoue stalked in, carrying a black handbag and a pile of heavy looking books.

"Senpai!" called Hiro. "Oh, did you just come back from the auditions, too?"

Kazoue gave her a withering look. "Fairytales," she muttered, "do not appeal to me at all. I hope you haven't forgotten to sign in. Goodnight."

_Maybe if the play had an evil queen character, _thought Hiro. With no one left to talk to, she sat herself down on the couch beneath the infamous nude statue, and resigned herself to homework.

Miss Maruyama had assigned her class the first two acts of Shakespeare's play, King Lear. It was a difficult read, and although the story was engaging enough, the language was stilted and hard to slog through. It took Hiro quite some time to parse her way through the pages, and as she read, the hours ticked by on the clock. By the time she reached the second act of the play, it was already almost midnight.

Then, she heard the scream. It was a masculine scream, actually more of a strangled cry, like whoever had been calling out was struggling against something that was trying to cut off his air. It came pretty obviously from the direction of Masaru's room, and Hiro dropped her book onto the floor and took off towards the sound.

Before she came anywhere near the door, she knew that something felt wrong.

_Of course it's wrong, a grown man is screaming, _she told herself. _There's nothing right about it. _

Still, she knew, it was a different kind of wrong, and a different kind of horror that uncharacteristically gripped her as she pulled upon the door without knocking.

"Masaru," she began, "what's?"

Then, she saw him, and whatever she was about to say just died away on her lips.

Masaru was kneeling on the ground, clutching his head with both hands and moaning to himself. On the ground in front of him was an open copy of the "Once Upon a Time" script, which he'd presumably been using to practice his lines. Next to the script was an overturned glass of water, which had spilled out on to the carpet and left a wet stain in its wake. Beside that was a manila envelope, open on one side, and apparently empty.

_Oh God, _thought Hiro, her mind racing. She remembered the frightened look in Masaru's eyes when she'd encountered him only hours before, as well as the shady, hooded figure that he'd met underneath the awning.

"Masaru," she murmured. "You took it, didn't you?"

All Masaru managed to do was groan in misery.

"But…" asked Hiro, puzzled, "why? Why would you…I don't understand. I thought you hated that stuff." She'd thought that had been clear from the angry way that he'd snapped at the very idea of the M-Path drug, and then there had been that terribly bitter look in his eyes when he'd muttered to her and Momoko about the nature of "real acting."

"Hiro," Masaru rasped, panting desperately. "Help me…please?"

_But I don't know how, _she realized frantically. _When this happened to me, I don't know what I did, I just…panicked, and ran. Then it went away by itself. I don't know, maybe it wasn't a very strong dose? Should we just wait it out and see what happens, or…?_

"I'm calling the infirmary," she told him, pleased with the way the panic didn't manage to creep into her voice. "And I'm getting you some water, because maybe diluting it will help a little with the-!"

"No!" Suddenly, Masaru's hand shot out and closed around Hiro's wrist. He held her hard, and it hurt. She tried to writhe away from him, but his grip wouldn't give, and all she managed to do was twist the skin of her wrist painfully under his clutching fingers.

"Let go of me," she told him. "I have to get help. You want help, don't you?"

"Don't leave me," he begged her. "Don't go. It hurts so bad…my head…I don't want to be alone."

Hiro took a deep breath. He was frantic, she realized, and illogical. Under the circumstances, who wouldn't be?

"Masaru, please," she told him gently. "You have to let me get a doctor. I don't know how sick this stuff is going to make you; we need someone here in case of an emergency. Maybe a doctor can make it stop hurting, but if I don't go and get one, then-!"

"Why?" he sobbed. It was horrible, hearing his usually cheerful tones breaking in that kind of desperation. "Why won't you stay with me? I thought we were friends. I've been a good friend, right? I helped you pick your courses, I helped you…with everything. I'm a good friend, I'm a great guy! I'm really nice, I promise! Please, don't leave, don't leave me here. I'm scared of being alone. I thought you were my hero…aren't you?"

_This doesn't sound like him at all, _thought Hiro. _God, it's having an even worse effect on him than it did on me. What the hell am I going to do?_

"But maybe you don't care," said Masaru suddenly, in a much quieter, calmer voice. "Maybe you don't care, because I'm just the funny guy, right? I'm just the joker, I'm just the sidekick, I'm not important. I'm not important to you. I thought I could be, but I was wrong. I thought I could make you like me, but it wasn't enough, it's never enough! I'm never enough! All I wanted was for you to like me…why won't you like me?"

He twisted her arm sharply, and she cried out and closed her eyes against the pain. When she opened them again, she could have sworn that the throbbing in her wrist and the panic in her head was making her hallucinate. If she hadn't known it was crazy, she would have thought she saw Masaru's shadow move.

He was casting a silhouette against the wall in the dim lamp-light, and as Hiro watched in growing horror, the shadow detached itself from its owner and advanced slowly on her, moving independently of Masaru, who suddenly released her wrist. He slumpd in a heap to the floor and was danagerously, sickening still.

The shadow, however, didn't seem interested in Masaru at all. The shadow, or whatever creature it had become smiled at Hiro with Masaru's same jovial smile, only this time, it had a hint of madness in it that sent a cold chill racing down Hiro's spine and lodging itself in her heart.

"Masaru?" she whispered, bending down to him without taking her eyes off of the shadow creature. "Are…are you…?"

She pressed her fingers to his skin, and found that he still had a pulse. That was all she had time to discover, because in the next moment the shadow took one more step forward and closed the gap between them.

"I am the loneliness," hissed the shadow, in a strange, gaspingly inhuman voice that at the same time managed nonsensically to remind Hiro of Masaru's voice. "I am the solitude, and I am the isolation. I am the shadow, born from the abyss that dwells within."

The shadow, or whatever it was raised both hands in the air, and what had been the shady images of Masaru's own fingers turned suddenly into terrifying shadow claws. Hiro instinctively backed away as far as she could, until her back was pressing up against the wall.

_I'm going to die, _she thought. _I don't know why, but I'm going to die…or, I'm going to wake up and discover that this was all a horrible nightmare. Somehow, I don't think so, though. This feels horrendously real. Oh, god._

The shadow prepared to lunge, and Hiro opened her mouth to scream, or protest, or call for help.

Instead, however, what came out was the word "persona."

Hiro gasped. Something shifted in a very strange and inexplicable way inside of her, in her mind rather than in her head, and in her heart rather than in her chest. Then, it erupted out of her soul and landed on the floor just in front of her, and Hiro looked up into the unblinking eyes of a white-robed woman with silvery white hair, all unkempt and matted.

"I am Sybil of the many faces," said the woman. "I have come to heed your call."

_My call? _ Wondered Hiro. _What call? Who is this? And why does she…wait, does she have four heads? Many faces is right, oh, hell…if this isn't a nightmare then…then I'm losing my mind. _

Sybil, it seemed had not only one face, but at least four. As the woman turned her head slightly from side to side, Hiro caught glimpses of other faces peering out from places on Sybil's head where faces definitely did not belong. They were tucked up under her hair, blinking out through gaps in the strands, and despite the fact that it was beyond impossible, Hiro realized that there were more faces than she could count. They seemed to be defying the limits of space, occupying places that did not, in fact, exist, overlapping on each other and yet standing alone at one and the same moment. It was a paradox that only a lunatic could come up with.

_Therefore, _decided Hiro rationally, _I must be a lunatic. Whatever that drug did to me, it has destroyed the line between fantasy and reality and turned my brains into a madman's playground. Oh, and we are both still going to die, although now I don't know what's going to kill us first; the demented shadow thing, or the insane multi-faced monster girl. This…please, please, oh lord, let this be a nightmare. _

Each of Sybil's faces, noted Hiro, was covered with what looked like a theatrical mask. As Hiro watched, Sybil's head began to revolve, revealing masked face after masked face. It revolved slowly at first, then faster and faster, until the motion began to make Hiro feel dizzy and sick.

"I await your command, Master," intoned Sybil, head still spinning.

_Master? _Wondered Hiro. _Me? _

"I don't want to die," she managed.

Sybil inclined her head, nodding once. Then, reaching up, she snatched away one of the masks, revealing a pale, gaping face that gave Hiro the disturbing impression, just for a moment, that she was somehow staring into her own eyes.

Then, Sybil turned on the shadow. Its claws were still upraised and ready for the kill.

"Zio," Hiro heard herself say.

Bolts of fierce lightning came shooting out of Sybil's eyes. They struck the shadow creature on both shoulders, eliciting a terrible cry and sending the shadow creature crumpling to the ground. It curled up into a ball and then seemed to shrink in on itself, disintegrating away into a pile of reddish ash.

Next to where the ash lay, Masaru twitched, and began to stir.

"Wha…" he mumbled, in a voice that sounded blessedly like the one Hiro was used to. "What's…what the hell is that thing?"


	16. Chapter Fourteen: Feels So Real

**Chapter Fourteen: Feels So Real**

"Masaru," breathed Hiro in relief. She hurried to help him to his feet, and then they both stared down at the pile of ash.

"Did I…imagine that?" asked Masaru hesitantly. Hiro bit her lip, and turned to look back at the silver-haired Sybil, but it seemed that she had disappeared along with the shadow. The only difference was that she hadn't left any evidence behind.

"I don't think you imagined it," Hiro said quietly. "Not unless we both did."

"Oh." Masaru swallowed uncomfortably. "So, then, um, all that stuff that I said, I…I-!"

Hiro shook her head, cutting him off. "Don't," she said. "It's okay, I get it. I know what M-Path does. It takes your feelings and brings them from the inside to the outside, makes them bigger and scarier, so strong that you can't control them. You just lost control, l that's all. It wasn't your fault."

"Yeah, well, not exactly," muttered Masaru. "I mean, it's my fault that I took that stuff. If I'd manned up and stuck to my guns about that drug stuff, you'd never have had to listen to all of that. I'd never have, uh…" He faltered, embarrassed and clearly ashamed.

Hiro sighed. "I can't be mad at you," she admitted. "I took it, too."

"Wha-? You did?" Masaru's mouth fell open in shock. "Wait, seriously? Even after what I told you, about how it's bad news? Why the hell would you do that?"

"Oh, like you have any right to get on my case about it," retorted Hiro. "If you're so dead-set against it, then why did I find you lying on the floor just now?"

Masaru deflated. All the fight sort of left him and he sighed, nodding. "Yeah, well…okay, you've pretty much got me there."

He sat down on the bed, and spent a minute staring at the remains of the shadow.

"Why'd you do it?" asked Hiro.

Masaru shook his head. "It's stupid," he told her. "I mean…yeah, of course it is."

Hiro shrugged. "Tell me anyway."

Frowning thoughtfully, Masaru took a deep breath. "Uh, well," he began, "I figured it would be easy to get a good role in a fairytale, right? I mean, how hard could it be to play some stupid Prince Charming? I thought, hey, maybe I'd try for the lead, and then maybe I could use this show to prove to people that I can play that kind of role, that I'm the right person for those parts. I wanted to start getting seen as the right guy for the best parts, instead of just the last resort."

"I thought you said," Hiro reminded him, "that you liked the supporting roles."

"Yeah," agreed Masaru carefully. "And I do, really, but…trust me, it gets old after a while, putting all of that hard work into playing a role, doing everything right, and then watching them forget to put my name in the program, or give me somebody else's costume while the audience rushes in to greet some lead guy who can barely tie his own shoes without help, but has a really great smile, you know?"

Hiro didn't say anything. Masaru shifted nervously under her gaze.

"I mean, I'm only human," he muttered defensively. Everybody wants his fifteen minutes of fame, and…I don't know, the spotlight might be fun, for a change. At least, I wanted to find out. Hell, I just wanted someone to remember that I was even in the show, and I thought, you know, maybe this was my chance, my chance to get a break." He scowled. "But then, halfway through the audition, Genji showed up."

"Who's Genji?" asked Hiro.

"Genji Nakamura," Masaru informed her, "is everybody's favorite person. He's good looking, he's got muscles, and even Mo-chan says he's got great hair. He's even a pretty smooth talker, when he tries hard enough. Not that he has to. He doesn't have to actually do anything, all he has to do is stand there and be fantastic, and wait for everyone to just love the hell out of him."

Hiro raised an eyebrow. "Sounds to me like not everybody loves him," she remarked.

For some reason, that made Masaru laugh. "Nah, I like him okay," he insisted. "I do. Hee's, you know, nice. I just wish…I wish he hadn't been at that damn audition. That was supposed to be my moment, and as soon as he was done reading I saw the look on the teacher's face, and I knew I didn't stand a chance. Genji's the perfect Prince Charming, the role was pretty much written for a guy like him."

"Oh," murmured Hiro. "So, then that's why."

"Yeah," agreed Masaru unhappily. "I was gonna film myself reading after I took the M-Path, and give that tape to the teacher in the morning. It wasn't right, and probably it wasn't gonna work, but I guess I was desperate. I guess I wanted that big break more than I even thought I did. Maybe I panicked, or something. Jeez."

He was silent for a long moment, still frowning contemplatively down at the ash heap on the floor. Then, he looked up into Hiro's questioning eyes.

"It's like Mo-chan says, huh?" he asked. "I'm a stupid." He gave her a sad sort of sheepish smile. "I'm sorry about what I said, Hiro. And…about your wrist. Uh…I guess sorry's not really good enough, though, right?"

Hiro took a seat next to him on the bed. "Its fine," she assured him.

"You were just so cool," Masaru went on. He was collected now, and quiet, although there was something slightly desperate and depressed still lingering in his eyes. "When you beat that guy up with the bag, I mean. You were this crazy cool new girl, and I thought that maybe, if I got there before anybody else did, maybe you'd notice me and think that I was cool, too. I thought that if I was nice to you, and if I found a way to help you out or make the move a little easier, maybe you'd start to like me. Maybe you'd think I was somebody special. That'd be a nice change…anybody thinking I was special, I mean. It's not pretty, and it's messy, but….there it is. That's the whole truth, for what it's worth."

Hiro did have to spend a moment turning that over in her mind. She found herself nodding after a moment. _I wondered why he was so…eager to spend time with me, _she thought. _I thought maybe it was some kind of dare, or that he just wanted to get close to the wicked celebrity and learn all of her secrets for the other kids. Unworthy of me, maybe…and this, in contrast, is kind of a relief. I wanted him to like me, too. Being followed around because of how "cool" you are isn't bad at all. Nope. Shouldn't, but I could get used to that. _

"You're nicer than most people," she informed him. "That's special enough. You and Momoko said you'd help me out, and you did. That was really nice."

Masaru laughed. "You're starting to sound like Mo-chan, now," he said. "'Nice' this, and 'nice' that."

"Well," mumbled Hiro defensively, "it's true, you are nice. You both are, and I'm…I'm not really that used to meeting nice people, so yeah, it's a big deal. It worked. You impressed me with being nice. So…I'm glad we're friends."

"Still?" asked Masaru. "Even after that stuff I just told you? You know, about my ulterior motives? Again, he tried to smile, but it came out looking strained.

"Yeah." Hiro nodded. "Look, you made me feel better about moving here, even if you weren't doing it for what you think were the right reasons. I wasn't lonely, and I wasn't bored. We've had fun together, I think that's…well, uh, I guess that's what friendship's supposed to be about. Of course I'm still glad."

That same big, stupid grin started making its way back across Masaru's face. "Me too," he told her. "I'm…I'm really glad too. Wow." He laughed. Man, it's weird, but I feel tons better, now. There's nothing shitty that you don't know about me. That's…well, it definitely isn't good acting, that's for sure.

Hiro smiled.

There was a sudden blinding flash of light, from the pile of shadow ashes, and Hiro had to cover her eyes with one hand. When she took the hand away again, there was a small but muscular looking man in armor standing where the ashes had been. He had quiet blue eyes and was wearing a funny kind of ancient helmet that reminded Hiro of the one she'd once seen on the cover of her old translated copy of Homer's "Odyssey," she she'd had to read it for a class at her old school.

"I am Patroclus," said the man, in a much softer voice than Hiro had expected to come from a warrior. "I am the protector, and I am the sacrifice. For you, I would give up myself."

"Another hallucination?" asked Masaru, blinking into the armored man's unwavering gaze. "Do you think we're both seeing all this weird stuff because we both took the drug?"

Hiro frowned. _I'm not sure it really works that way, _she admitted to herself. _Can you really share a hallucination with someone else?_

Masaru and Patroclus were still staring at each other, and Masaru opened his mouth to speak, but then apparently lost his thread and stood there gaping, unsure of what to say. Their eyes locked on each other's eyes, both men stood transfixed, frozen in space.

"Why me?" asked Masaru finally. "Why do you want to protect me? What did I do?"

Patroclus said nothing. Instead, he blinked and then faded away into the surrounding air. Hiro saw Masaru shudder.

"I felt that," he told her. "I felt it…here." He touched a hand to his chest, to the place where his heart would be.

_I am thou_, said a familiar voice in Hiro's head. It sounded, she realized, almost like the voice of that strange woman, Sybil, who she'd seen only moments ago. _Thou art I. Thou hast established a new bond. Thou shalt be blessed when calling upon the power of the Magician arcana. _

Then, just like that, the voice was gone, and Hiro's mind was her own again.

"What's wrong?" asked Masaru, a bit shakily. "You look, um…weird."

"I'm hearing voices in my head now," she told him, shrugging.

"Oh," Masaru bit his lip. "Uh…okay, that's a good reason o look weird, I guess. Look, maybe we should both just give it up for today and go to bed. None of this makes any sense, but it's all because of that drug, right? It's all just drug daydreams. If we spend a few hours sleeping it off, let the M-Path out of our systems, then tomorrow's gonna be another day, right?

"Yeah," muttered Hiro. "Sure, that makes sense." She tried to sound encouraging, but her heart wasn't in it.

_It's just that it doesn't feel like a hallucination, _she told herself. _It feels…so real. _


	17. Chapter Fifteen: In Good Time

**Chapter Fifteen: In Good Time**

For the second time in two days, Hiro had trouble sleeping that night. Her body was exhausted, and her mind was in an even more deplorable state, but the thoughts and questions kept spinning around in her head as she racked her brain, trying tom make any sense at all of the crazy things she'd seen.

She wanted more than anything to believe in what Masaru had said. He'd been sure that the shadow, Sybil and Patroclus had all been drug-induced hallucinations. They'd go away, he'd insisted, if she just tried to sleep it off.

_But that can't be right, _Hiro kept telling herself. _I want it to be right. It would be easier if that was right, but I know that it's not. I didn't just see those things, I felt them. You can't…feel a hallucination, not in a deep way, like it's a part of you. I don't know why I know that, but I do. I just…I just know it. _

That, of course, was completely illogical, and Hiro's mind naturally objected to the illogical. It was that completely nonsensical conundrum that kept her lying awake, staring at the ceiling for almost an hour after she'd finally gotten into bed.

She must, however, eventually have dropped off. She knew that she'd fallen asleep, because suddenly she had to open her eyes again, and when she did, she was back in the Velvet Room.

_Oh, _she thought.

Igor was still sitting in his chair, looking pensive and eager as he watched her out of those terribly bright, calculating eyes. Behind his chair stood Daniel, looking less pleased, and significantly more annoyed.

"It wasn't a hallucination, was it?" Hiro asked, getting straight to the point. "And this isn't really a dream. What's going on?"

"Ah," murmured Igor, nodding in satisfaction. "Very good. I see that you have chosen to accept the truth to which your soul has already awoken. I have high hopes for you, as our newest and most unusual guest."

"What's happening to me?" insisted Hiro, letting herself get a little aggressive in her frustration and confusion. "And why did that thing come out of Masaru? Who is Sybil, and what does it all have to do with M-Path? None of this makes any sense."

Igor nodded. "I would say that are you doing remarkable well, under the circumstances. Come, sit down. I will answer all of your questions in good time."

Suddenly, there was a chair standing just beside Igor's own. It was blue, of course. Hiro was sure that it hadn't been there before, and she couldn't account for how it had gotten there at all, but she had sort of gotten past the point of caring about the little mysteries. She took the offered seat.

"Tell me," she demanded. "What is M-Path?"

"M-Path," murmured Igor, "is a substance that provokes feelings. It draws out and brings to life the strong feelings, the feelings that lie at the very base of the soul. They are the feelings that guide human actions, feelings that are so typically and erroneously referred to as the basis for 'instinct.' That is what you experienced when you chose to experiment with M-Path, and it is what your friend experienced as well, as though you are both guided, somewhat obviously, by a different set of governing emotions."

_Okay, _thought Hiro. _So far, so good. This is all pretty much what I expected. _

"So, those things that Masaru and I saw," continued Hiro, feeling a bit more confident now. "That…shadow creature, and Sybil, and…Patroclus. Those were all because of the drug? They're…um, a part of our feelings?" _No, _she thought, _no, wait, that doesn't make any sense…oh no, I'm losing the thread again. What was it exactly that Igor said? Something about…governing emotions? What? _

"That is…one way of looking at it," replied Igor carefully. "Sybil, as you call her, is the manifestation of those feelings, the feelings brought to the surface by the effects of M-Path. She is the irrational part of you, the untethered, emotional part, which in your case has chosen a fascinating material form."

Hiro frowned. "You've lost me," she admitted.

Igor nodded. "Of course," he murmured. "Yes, it is…a complex and difficult concept. Allow me to make it clearer."

He raised one hand, which suddenly contained what looked to Hiro like some kind of playing card. The card, Hiro noticed, wasn't blue, which was remarkable. Almost as soon as that thought had finished making its way through her mind, she felt a tug at something inside of herself, deep inside, within the organs and the bones, at the very center of where her soul might have been if she'd been the kind of person who believed in the human soul. She gasped, closed her eyes, and then opened them again to see Sybil, wild silver hair floating around her head, her arms outstretched and her many faces guarded behind their several masks.

"I am a persona," intoned Sybil.

"I don't know what that means," countered Hiro.

Behind Igor's chair, Daniel stirred restlessly, and yawned. "Sheesh," he muttered. "This is going nowhere…look, it's like this, okay?"

Stepping around the chair, he frowned at Hiro. "Your persona's a part of yourself. It's like…your inner strength. Not everybody gets a persona. Most people who take M-Path just freak out and start saying random scary stuff while their brains overload with feelings. If they take the drug enough times, it like…shorts out their brain, turns it off, so that they can't think about anything anymore except those really strong feelings that M-Path gives them. They turn into zombies, sort of. Not zombies, but…youg et that, right?" He gave Igor a worried look. "I think that's what I meant. It's, um, a cultural reference. A human cultural reference. I got that right, didn't I?"

Hiro wasn't sure what to say. "I…know what zombies are, yes," she agreed hesitantly.

Daniel looked pleased with himself. "Right! See? I do know some human stuff. Anyway, so that's what happens to most people. You, though, you're different, for some reason. Your feelings turned into a persona. That means you're pretty cool, you're stronger, like I said. You can fight those feelings, and so can your friend, whathisname. That's what I was talking about before, remember? The last time you were here? I told you that people could get hurt. That's what you've got the persona for, you're supposed to protect people."

"Protect people? From what?" asked Hiro. She remembered suddenly the voice that she'd heard in head that first time, the voice that had said something to her about being a weapon that came from…the abyss or something like that. What abyss? What weapon?

"Daniel," she began.

Igor shook his head. "That's enough, Daniel," he said. It wasn't a bark or a shout, but somehow the way he said it was cold and unyielding enough o get Daniel to back off. Looking a bit deflated, Daniel took himself back behind the chair, and stood there watching Hiro with a look on his face that was half annoyed, and half apologetic.

The walls around Hiro began to shimmer and fade, and she realized that she was waking up, or whatever the equivalent of that was in this not-quite world of dreams.

"Wait, hang on," she insisted. "There's so much more I need to know. What am I supposed to use the weapon against, and who's going to get hurt? Am I going to turn into a zombie? You said you'd answer all my questions!"

"Yes," agreed Igor. "I said that I would answer them all in good time. Now may not be the best time…do you understand?"

"No!" shouted Hiro. "I do not understand!"

Igor didn't seem to be listening. "It has been a pleasure, as always," he murmured. "Until next time, then…honored guest."

The room disappeared all around her, swimming away in a pool of gentle, unconscious blueness, until Hiro, much to her own irritation, woke up in her own bed.

**Author's Endnote: **And that, thank goodness, is FINALLY the end of the prologue, or the introductory sequence. Now the story can actually get started.

…What, you thought this was the story? No, no, this was just the opening part. This, uh, might end up being a long story, actually.

From now on, you'll get significant choices every few chapters. I admit that the main plot of the story, and the way that it will turn out at the end have already been decided, so no mater what you choose, the main plot points will remain the same. I will, however, give you choices as to which social links you work on, and as to which characters you get for your team. Since this is probably going to be a pretty long story already, you will NOT be able to get every single character of every single arcana. When I ask what choice you think that Hiro should make next, I will be opening up the possibility for you to either improve upon a social link, or get a new character. Hopefully that'll be fun, I think it will. Either way, here we go!

Thanks to everyone who has been reading so far! I'm delighted that you're all still with me on this!

Sincerely and enthusiastically,

Ari Moriarty


	18. Chapter One: The Third Floor

**PART ONE – Driven to Distraction**

**Chapter One: The Third Floor**

Remarkably, Hiro woke up the next morning in the same dorm bedroom, as though nothing strange had happened the night before. It was raining outside, but not in a menacing or foreboding way. It was just raining, like it might on any other gloomy Wednesday.

"Hiro-san!" called Momoko, pushing open the door. "Good morning! It's a-!"

"It's not a beautiful day outside," muttered Hiro, shaking her head and trying to rub the sleep out of her eyes. "If that's what you were going to say, then don't."

"Oh." Momoko frowned, apparently having to think about that for a moment. After a second's hesitation, her face lit up again, and she began to sing. "Rain, rain, go away, come again another day!"

Hiro groaned in protest, but somehow Momoko's little musical moment brought a much needed instance of awkward reality back into the room. Sliding out from under the covers, Hiro yawned, stretched, and then fumbled her way to the desk chair.

"Did you go and try out for the play last night?" asked Momoko, as she applied the makeup. "Did you try for the Princess? I think you'd make a beautiful princess!"

Hiro didn't think she'd make a beautiful anything, and didn't care to try. In most cases, she would probably have been annoyed to have to listen to meaningless flattery like that, but she was slowly coming to understand that Momoko actually meant the things she said. Momoko just took a slightly broader outlook on qualities like "nice" and "pretty." To Momoko, everyone was nice and pretty…unless, of course, they were ugly and mean, which were active things that they'd probably have to work hard to achieve in her eyes.

"I tried out for the maid," said Hiro. "It…didn't go very well."

Momoko frowned. "Uh oh. Why?"

For the second time, Hiro told the story of how she had slapped Shun across the face, and, for the umpteenth time, Momoko surprised her.

"Well that wasn't very nice!" huffed Momoko, putting both hands on her hips and giving Hiro an accusingly little look. "I don't know why you did that. Shun-san is a very friendly person! He always says good morning to me in the hallway, and he helped me carry my books up the stairs two times! I wish you hadn't hit him. You shouldn't just go around hitting people, Hiro."

"I…I'm sorry," mumbled Hiro, surprised at how genuinely contrite she suddenly felt.

Momoko's face cleared almost instantly. "Well, that's okay," she said, returning to her ministrations. "As long as you're sorry. Mistakes happen!"

Hiro laughed. There was something so ridiculously childish about the exchange. It was normal and mundane in an unexpected way that, for a few moments at least, took her mind off the horrors of the night before, and set her straight enough to finish getting dressed and head up the stairs to the first floor.

Masaru was waiting for her when she got there, and the uncertain look on his face did take some of the wind out of her sails.

"Morning," he mumbled.

"Good morning," replied Hiro carefully. "Are you feeling better?"

"Uh…are you?" countered Masaru.

_No, _thought Hiro. "Yes, much," she told him. "Thank you. Ready for class?"

They walked along in silence together through the street towards the school. Hiro kept glancing at Masaru out of the corner of her eye, but he wasn't looking at her. Instead, he appeared to be thinking hard about something, staring fixedly at the ground with his lips moving as though he were muttering something that she couldn't make out.

"What was it like for you?" he asked eventually, just as they came to the school building steps.

Hiro frowned. "What was what like? You mean, when I-!"

"When you took the M-Path, yeah," interrupted Masaru, glancing over his shoulder. He was nervous, Hiro realized, so nervous that he wasn't really paying attention. He probably hadn't gotten any sleep at all. The dark circles under his eyes were enough of a sign.

Honesty, she decided, was probably her best bet here. Masaru needed confirmation that he wasn't crazy, or at least that, if he was crazy, they both were. "It was horrible," she admitted. "It was probably the worst feeling I have ever had. I was angry, and miserable, and depressed and frustrated all at the same time. And then I started running."

Masaru stared at her. "Running?" he asked.

"Yeah, running." Hiro shrugged. "I guess I panicked. I was trying to..get away from the feelings, maybe. It's what I used to do at home, when I was upset about something, I'd go for a jog to try and clear my head." _This, _she thought, _hadn't really been a jog. It had been more like a terrified sprint for my life…but still. _"I ran all the way to the third floor," she told him.

Masaru stopped walking. "We don't have a third floor," he said.

"No, we do," insisted Hiro. "At the top, where Kazoue lives."

"Kazoue lives on the second floor," Masaru explained. "She calls it the third floor because she always messes up and thinks of the basement like the first floor. Basement, first floor, second floor. Three floors, right?"

For a moment, Hiro wasn't sure. _Maybe, _she thought, _maybe I just counted wrong. Maybe I really did run up just three floors, but I was confused because of all the M-Path and the panic. Maybe that's really what happened._

"You were probably just too upset to notice which floor you were on," suggested Masaru with a shrug. "It's cool, don't worry about it."

It was only when he said it out loud that Hiro's mind rebelled against that idea."I can count," she informed him. "I went up four floors. Basement, first floor, second floor…and then, third floor. I was on the third floor when everything started to feel better. I know what I'm talking about, I'm not crazy."

"We're both crazy," muttered Masaru.

Hiro thought of the encounter she'd had with Igor and Daniel. Maybe she hadn't liked it much, and maybe it had been strange, even creepy, but it had been real. _We're not crazy, _she reminded herself. _We're not crazy at all…it's something much worse than that. Something terrible is happening here, and we're the only ones who seem to know what's really going on. That's much scarier than being crazy. _

She opened her mouth to make that case, but Masaru was shaking his head. He turned around, grabbed her by the arm, and started marching her off back towards the dorm.

"Wait, where are we going?" she asked. "We have class in ten minutes."

Masaru had a very dark look on his face. "I don't care," he mumbled. "We're gonna go count the damn floors. I'm gonna prove to you that there are only three of them, altogether. You'll see. Okay? Let's go."

"Wait, hold on, Masaru," insisted Hiro. "Look, it's really not that important."

He glared at her. "It is important! It's very important."

A few minutes went by in uncomfortable silence before he muttered, so softly that she barely heard it, "I need to prove that at least something around here makes sense. I'm not that crazy, I'm not crazy enough o forget how many floors there are in my own damn dorm, right? I'm not."

As soon as they got back to the dorm, Masaru dragged her over to the stairwell.

"We haven't signed in," she reminded him. "Kazoue's going to be angry."

"Don't care," he muttered. "See? This is the first floor. Downstairs is the basement. So if we're counting floors, this is number two."

"Got it," murmured Hiro.

They went up the stairs on to the second floor landing. "Second floor," said Masaru. "That makes three."

Hiro was looking past him at the entrance to another stairwell down at the end of the hall. "And…what about that?" she asked, pointing. Masaru turned around to follow her finger. His mouth fell open. Then he closed it, and gritted his teeth.

"That's not there," he said.

Hiro bit her lip. "It is there," she told him. "We're both looking at it."

"That," Masaru retorted, more loudly than he usually did, "doesn't actually make it there! We're both hallucinating, right? So, we're both!"

There was nothing for it, Hiro decided. Masaru wasn't ever going to admit to himself that this wasn't some sort of strange drug-induced dream without any proof. Leaving him standing there talking to himself, she strode across the hall and climbed the apparently nonexistent stairs.

At the top of those stairs was another hallway, almost identical to the second floor hallway that she'd just left Masaru muttering in. There was nothing strange or eerie about it. It didn't look anything like the kind of hallway that might come out of the roiling depths of her subconscious mind.

Behind her, Hiro heard Masaru's footsteps finally climbing the stairs. On a whim, she walked over to one of the doors, and pulled it open.

"Oh," she gasped involuntarily.

The room inside was pitch black, except for the occasional and apparently random flash of colored light. Whenever the room suddenly lit up in shades of blue, red, green, or yellow, Hiro caught sight of a shadowy figure flitting or gliding around in the otherwise empty space. Once, as she watched, the shadow turned to look at her, and she shuddered at the hollow look in its vaguely human eyes. Then the room went dark again, and she lost sight of the shadow. When the lights came back on, it was already gone.

"Wh…what is this place?" stammered Masaru from somewhere behind Hiro's left shoulder. "And what are those…things? More hallucinations?"

Hiro shook her head. She was thinking back over what Igor and Daniel had told her the night before.

_Zombies, _she remembered. _Daniel said that the people who use M-Path for too long turn into things like zombies. Zombies don't have minds, or souls, or…they're just bodies. _

"These are the souls of the people who take too much M-Path," she told him quietly, as the pieces began to slowly come together in her head. "Like that girl that we saw crying over and over again on our walk home the other day. They're the souls of those people."

"Wait, stop, hold on," began Masaru. Hiro could hear the panic rising in his voice. "What are you talking about? What do you mean, souls? Since when are souls an actual thing? And hey, I already told you about that girl who was crying. She was just being dramatic, people do that all the time around here…I mean, jeez, it's a school full of would be thespians, and we're a dramatic bunch! Characters and critics, remember? It doesn't mean-!"

All of a sudden, another shadow swam into view. It's eyes locked on Hiro's, and then it smiled at her, it's mouth opening wide with big, shiny white teeth flashing in the suddenly golden illumination that shot like lightening through the darkened room.

"It's coming," she whispered.

Masaru blinked.

Then the shadow was rushing towards them like a rocket, claws outstretched.


	19. Chapter Two: Intriguingly Different

**Author's Note: **These two chapters go together, so I thought I'd post them together. My brain hurts, now…so I think I'm going to go out to play. More updates to **Allelujah** pending the end of my headache. Thanks for reading!

**Chapter Two: Intriguingly Different**

There was a very strange split second in which neither of them moved.

Then, suddenly, Masaru was trying to push his way in front of Hiro.

"What are you doing?" she shouted. "Get back!"

"But I-!" began Masaru helplessly.

"Get back!" insisted Hiro. Something inside her was beginning to stir and shift, moving up slowly from the farthest corner of her soul and filling her with a strength that she was only now beginning to recognize as the power that Igor and Daniel had described. She took a deep breath.

"Persona," she murmured.

Sybil suddenly burst out of her soul and stood between her and the oncoming shadow, somehow radiating an almost manic stoicism. Hiro's hands were shaking, and her face was going numb with fear, but she managed to reach into the furthest parts of her own mind to call forth the commands that she somehow knew without ever having been taught.

"Zio," she told Sybil. Sybil removed her mask, and again that bolt of lightning shot out and struck the shadow.

Unfortunately, this time it wasn't enough. The shadow faltered for a moment, apparently staggered by the blow, but then kept coming, obviously angrier now than it had been before.

Now, Hiro really did begin to panic. That was everything she knew about how to handle this. That "zio" thing had worked the last time, what was she going to do this time?

"Zio!" she insisted again, and again, the bolt of lightning shot out of Sybil's eyes, and again, the shadow stopped in its tracks…but still, it wasn't enough. The lightning wasn't working, it wasn't strong enough for this one.

Hiro exhaled in frustration, trying not to lose control. _Okay _she thought. _I know that I'm doing something wrong. Igor said that I had the power to fight these things. That is what he said, isn't it? That's what "persona" is supposed to be, so…_

"Agi," said Masaru from behind her. Hiro didn't quite have the nerve to take her eyes off the shadow and turn around. She did, however, see what looked like a geyser of flame suddenly fly past her shoulder and engulf the shadow in a tiny but fierce looking inferno. The shadow let out a scream, and then tumbled to the ground, burning quickly away into the familiar pile of red ashes. Hiro waited, holding her breath, but nothing else came for them. Then, she did turn around.

Behind her, Masaru was standing next to Patroclus, who had his sword held out in front of them both, apparently warding off any potential attackers. There was a new look in Masaru's eyes, a look that Hiro hadn't seen there before. He was confused, but confident somehow, and there was a firm set to his jaw that made him seem older and more determined than he had when he'd been frantically trying to deny the existence of the things they'd both seen.

"Masaru," Hiro breathed. "You…probably saved my life."

Masaru gave her a nervous little laugh. "Yeah, well, I told you, didn't I? I'm really good in support." He glanced over at Patroclus, who nodded once and then disappeared, presumably back into Masaru's soul.

_That's his persona, _thought Hiro. _Just like Sybil is mine. That's…that soldier is his inner strength, I think, if I'm getting this right. I'm not sure what that says, but it's something important. Not everyone has a soldier inside of them. Masaru does._

"Besides," Masaru was saying, "I owed you one from the other day, when you defended me. Now, we're even."

"Yes," agreed Hiro quietly. "Yes, we are."

Sybil, too, vanished into the depths of Hiro, and then Hiro and Masaru stood and stared together into the darkness of the shadow room.

"We aren't imagining this, are we?" asked Masaru eventually. He sounded more tired than desperate, now.

Hiro shook her head. "We aren't," she said.

"Okay." Masaru nodded slowly. "Then…I have no idea what's going on."

Hiro sat down on the ground outside the door, and gestured for Masaru to join her. Her legs were suddenly feeling a bit weak, probably due to the effects of fear that she'd been trying so hard not to give into. "Maybe I do," she said. "Or, some of it anyway."

As they sat there on the ground, trying not to listen for sounds of shadows, Hiro told Masaru everything that she understood about M-Path, the shadows, and the things that called themselves "persona." She told him about the Velvet Room, about Igor and Daniel, and as much as she could remember of what they'd said to her.

At the end, unfortunately, Masaru didn't look as though he was feeling any better. If anything, he looked even more confused.

"Sorry," mumbled Hiro. "I…guess that didn't help."

Again, Masaru laughed uncomfortably. "No, uh, not really. If…if I didn't know better, I'd think you were making all of this up. Sorry."

"Don't mention it," muttered Hiro. "I'd…probably think the same thing."

It was then that another blast of blue light lit up the dark shadow room, and it illuminated something against the far wall that Hiro hadn't noticed before. There was a door at the back of the room, an elaborately decorated blue door that was glowing faintly.

"What's that?" asked Hiro, pointing at the door.

Masaru raised an eyebrow. "What's…what?"

"The door. That door, there," insisted Hiro.

Masaru frowned. "Okay," he said, "Listen, Hiro, there really isn't any door in there. Neither of us have had any sleep, maybe now you really are starting to hallucinate."

Hiro was frustrated. Getting up, she squared her shoulders, swallowed her terror, and made her way into the room. The blue light, of course, chose that moment to flicker out, leaving her in complete darkness, which only added to her rising horror, but she managed to force it down. When the light flickered on again, it was red, which was menacing and evil looking, but Hiro nonetheless took the opportunity to relocate the door and to cross the room towards it.

"Where are you going?" called Masaru.

Hiro shrugged. She didn't really know. _Through the door, I suppose, _she thought. She reached out and turned the handle, half hoping that the door would be locked. Of course, it wasn't, and the door opened to reveal a familiar blue room.

"Ah," murmured Igor, looking up as she walked in. "Welcome to the Velvet Room."

_Somehow, _thought Hiro, as the door closed behind her, _I think I knew that I was going to end up here all along. _

There were a lot of things she wanted to know, and the questions began crowding themselves into her head. It took a moment for her to figure out what she wanted to actually say first.

"What is this place?" she asked eventually.

"An excellent question," remarked Igor delightedly. "This is the Velvet Room, a place which exists between dream and reality, mind and matter. It is, if you will, a manifestation of what lies between your own conscious and subconscious minds."

"So," paraphrased Hiro, "we're in my head, right now."

Daniel snorted. "Something like that. "But don't start thinking that we're living in your dream world. At least…not the kind of place that most people think of as a dream world. The inside of your head is a seriously messed up place."

Igor raised a cautionary eyebrow at Daniel.

_I was sort of starting to get that impression, yes, _thought Hiro.

"What is a persona?" she asked.

Daniel sighed. "Weren't you listening last time? We already told you that. A persona is a weapon. It's like your inner strength."

"Ah, but your persona," interrupted Igor smoothly, cutting straight through Daniel's speech, "is different, very different from any others I have seen. I had thought, at first, that you must be the Wild Card, due to your being chosen as our honored guest. I had thought that you would be able to summon multiple personas, to bend those personas to your will and to create more powerful personas from that union."

Hiro waited. "But…I'm not that person, am I?" she asked eventually. "You were wrong about that. That's what you're making it sound like, anyway. I can't do those things."

For the first time, Igor looked slightly uncertain. It was probably the scariest thing that Hiro had seen yet.

"You are…different," he murmured thoughtfully. "Intriguingly different. Yours is the power of the Wild Card, and yet I am certain that only one persona lies available within your soul."

"No, wait," insisted Hiro. "You just said that the Wild Card can call lots of different personas. If I can't do that, then I'm obviously not the person you're looking for."

Frowning, Igor shook his head. "Be wary of the bonds you make with others," he told her, apparently totally ignoring her protestations, and instead going off on a tangent of his own. "It is through the friendships and connections that you forge with those around you that your persona receives its strength. At this time, that is all that I am able to tell you. Perhaps the rest will be clear as time progresses…as it has ever done, inexorably, towards the conclusion."

"The conclusion of what?" asked Hiro.

Igor said nothing. Instead, he looked at Daniel, who shrugged.

"Your friend is waiting," Daniel reminded her. "You should go. He's probably pretty freaked out."

"Until we meet again," intoned Igor.

Hiro wasn't sure what else to do. She had more questions, so many more questions, but it didn't look as though anything else was getting cleared up today. What Daniel had said was true, of course. Masaru would be panicking, and now that he had his own persona, she couldn't be sure what he'd try to do if he thought that something had happened to her in here.

"Right," she muttered. "Okay. Next time, then."

Hiro found Masaru waiting for her exactly where she'd left him, although he was on his feet now, and Patroclus was standing behind him at the ready. As soon as he saw Hiro, Masaru drooped in obvious relief.

"Where did you go?" he demanded.

Hiro shrugged. "Through the door I found," she told him matter of factly. "Igor was there, and so was Daniel."

That one took Masaru a moment. "Igor and Daniel are the ones you told me about," he mused. "Those two weirdoes who live in that blue room, right What were they doing in our dorm?"

"Why does our dorm have a third floor that isn't really there?" countered Hiro. "There are too many questions, Masaru. I don't think…that it's going to help us to try and sort it out right now."

Masaru bit his lip. "What else are we supposed to do? Just…act like none of this ever happened? Just go back to class like there's nothing wrong, and like we didn't just kill some crazy black monster in a room that isn't real? I knew you were cool, but this is…this is jut plain cold. I'm sorry, Hiro, but I don't think I have it in me."

Hiro raised an eyebrow. "Then tell me," she said quietly, "what it is you think we should do. Do you have a better idea?"

Masaru went silent. Hiro sighed.

"Right," she said. "Look, let's talk about this later. I'll meet you for dinner tonight, after class, and we can try to figure out what we know. Right now, I think I just need a break."'

"I feel like my brain is going to explode," muttered Masaru. "Like all the circuits are about to short out. It's too much. I give up. I'm going back to bed."

As she watched him stalk unhappily back down the stairs, presumably to his own room, Hiro pondered her own advice. She did have to do something, she realized, and going back to bed didn't seem like a very good option. She wouldn't be able to sleep anyway, not with everything that was trying desperately to make sense in her head. What she needed was a distraction, a chance to get back in touch with normality.

_Easier said than done, _she thought miserably. _Oh well. What is it that theater people say? The show must go on? Anyway, here goes. Back to the daily grind. _

**Author's Endnote: **And it's choice time again! Hiro's trying to take her mind off the fact that the world has gone horribly, horribly wrong. Where do you think she should go?

To class – even if she is going to be very late.

The school library

The cafeteria

The theater

Remember, some choices will introduce you to new characters, and some will get you better acquainted with ones you have already met.


	20. Chapter Three: The Magic of Reading

**Author's Note: **Excellent choice, the library! Now we get to play just a little bit with my favorite character, and you get a new character…huzzah! By the way, **KazuyaYamura** has given me some very interesting and helpful information about the rules of this site…please watch the author's notes for more information about the direction in which this story is going, very soon. Thank you!

**Chapter Three: The Magic of Reading**

After descending the stairs and entering back into reality, Hiro looked at her watch. It was already nine forty-five, and class was more than half over. Showing up now wouldn't work at all. She had missed most of the instruction, and all she'd end up getting from Miss Maruyama would be a bored and disinterested look. It made much more sense, as far as Hiro was concerned, to send a polite and contrite email to the teacher claiming that she'd woken up with food poisoning, and had been unable to get out of bed for all the bodily fluids. After all, considering the sort of thing that they served in the cafeteria here, that probably happened all the time, and she was more than likely to get away with it.

Of course, Hiro realized, if she stuck around the dorm she might run into Kazoue, who sometimes stopped back in after her morning class. The idea of facing Kazoue's disdain wasn't any more appealing than that of facing Miss Maruyama, and so Hiro decided that getting out of the dorm was probably her best bet.

She went down to her room, composed the email, read it twice for typographical errors before sending it, and then hurried out of the dorm and into the street as fast as she could. She didn't exactly have a plan as to how she'd spend the next half hour, and so she wandered around a bit until she found herself standing in front of a room on the second floor of the school building, which had a pair of glass windows through which she could see some shelves containing an impressive array of books.

_Oh, _she thought. _Of course we have a library. Every school has a library. Besides, the teachers have to be photo-copying all of those scripts from somewhere. _

Pushing open the doors, Hiro stepped inside. Then she stopped, and opened her mouth slightly in surprise. At this very moment, the library was displaying what was perhaps the great eighth wonder of the world. It was Ren Yamaguchi, having emerged from his room in the dorm, actually sitting in a public place and reading a book.

_Masaru said he never comes out of the dorm, except for when he goes to class, _Hiro remembered. _Actually, except for that first day, I've never seen him out of his room myself. He never comes down that I've seen, and I know he doesn't go to the cafeteria with the rest of us. He wasn't even at the dorm meeting the other night. I wonder if maybe this is the beginning of the apocalypse. _

Suddenly, Ren glanced up from his book and caught Hiro staring at him. She cleared her throat uncomfortably. _Oops, _she thought.

"Ren-senpai," she murmured apologetically.

Ren raised an eyebrow. "I don't know you," he told her bluntly. "How do you know my name?"

Hiro wasn't sure how to respond to that. As a matter of fact, since she'd last seen him before Momoko had started working her makeup magic, there was no way that Ren would recognize her as that same girl he'd been so unpleasant to in the dorm less than a week before. _Should I call him out on it?_ she wondered, _or should I be Hiro, instead of Hiromi, and try to make friends? Not that I'm even sure I want to be friends with him…he's rude enough to turn anybody off, even Masaru. _

Luckily, Ren solved the problem for her. "Oh," he said. "You're that girl. The Endo girl. I see."

Hiro blinked at him. "What…but, how did you-?"

Ren coughed. "It is that vaguely bemused, look on your face, as though you are attempting an impression of a stricken deer caught in car headlights," he informed her quietly. "It is the same look that I noticed on your face during your first foray into our dorm. I'm afraid no amount of expertly applied makeup can disguise that."

Hiro felt herself bristle. "Well," she mumbled, trying to regain control of the situation, "You're right, it's me…only, I'm Hiro, now. Hiro Kotone."

Ren shrugged. "My congratulations on your disturbingly hasty nuptials," he murmured. "I am sure that you and Kotone-kun are so very proud."

_Nope, _thought Hiro, forcing herself not to respond to that last jibe. _I am definitely not gonna make friends with this guy. Not a chance. Who would want to? No wonder he stays locked in his room all day!_

"Look," she began, dropping any pretense of politeness or formality. "It's because of people like you that I had to go and change my-!"

As Hiro was speaking, a girl stepped out from behind a stack of books and made her way over to the front desk. Almost as soon as he saw her, Ren dropped his book and lost all interest in Hiro, prompting Hiro to shoot the new girl a curious look.

The girl was soft looking, small and curved, with a little distracted smile on her lips. She was reading a book even as she walked, and from the pastel image on the cover, Hiro could tell without having to see the title that the book was one of those horribly saccharine romance novels that were available in prose and manga form in bookstores all over the country. The girl had sandy colored hair which was tied up with a white ribbon at the back of her head. She was wearing the school uniform, but there was a pin on her blazer that read "Assistant Librarian."

Ren let out another of his uncertain coughs, and got instantly to his feet. "Miss Matsuoka," he said. "I…trust that you are having a pleasant morning."

Startled, Miss Matsuoka fumbled her book, dropped it, and then bent down to pick it up again. "Oh, Ren!" she exclaimed in some embarrassment. "I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there. I got so distracted, I…forgive me. Is there anything I can help you with?"

Ren shook his head. "No, there's nothing. I was only passing the time. The library is…a relatively relaxing venue for my studies, most of the time." He shot a disappointed glance in Hiro's direction. "I fear that this may not be one of those times. Please, do not allow me to keep you from your work any longer."

"Oh, you're not keeping me!" insisted Miss Matsuoka.

Ren shook his head, and then did something that made Hiro's jaw drop. He smiled.

"I wish you a peaceful day," he told the assistant librarian. "Until another time, then." He then hurried out of the library so quickly that Hiro had barely blinked, and he was already gone.

Miss Matsuoka sighed, and shook her head. Resting her elbows on the counter, she again turned to the marked page in her romance novel. Worried that the girl would become engrossed in her reading again, Hiro stepped forward and seized the moment.

"Uh, excuse me," she hazarded. "Do you…do you actually know Ren-senpai?"

"Hmm?" Miss Matsuoka looked up from her book. "Oh, yes. He comes in here a lot, mostly when he's researching a new play. I know that this week the drama department will be casting the winter production, so I assume that must be why he's here."

Hiro bit her lip. "So he'll be working on the school play?" she asked.

Miss Matsuoka nodded "He's very intelligent, and very knowledgeable," she assured Hiro. "The teachers always ask him for help with the set and the character details. It's amazing, the little things that he knows about different points of time in history, and the customs and cultures…but oh, I'm rambling, I'm so sorry!" She blushed, which Hiro felt was adorable and a bit too stupidly girly at the same time. "Is there anything that I can help you with? I'm the assistant librarian…Mr. Kato is out today, so I'll be running the desk until lunchtime. If you'd rather speak to him, then I can-!"

"No, it's fine," insisted Hiro quickly. "Actually, I'm just looking around. I'm new this semester. My name's Hiro Kotone. I'm a second year transfer."

As she always did when introducing herself like this, Hiro held her breath. There was, of course, the possibility that the assistant librarian wouldn't buy it, would recognize her, or would have heard about her, possibly from Ren.

Apparently, though, she didn't have anything to worry about. Miss Matsuoka just smiled and nodded. "Oh, then I'm so glad that you came by!" she said. "Welcome to the Iwasaki library! Please come back if there's anything you'd like to read. We have a wonderful collection of plays and even a good selection of films in the back. I'm always happy to help."

Hiro found herself smiling back. "Thank you. I'll do that, Miss Matsuoka," she promised.

Miss Matsuoka shook her head. "Please, no, it's Manami. Manami Matsuoka. I'm a second year, like you! It's a pleasure to meet you, Hiro-san. I hope that I'll see you in the library again sometime soon."

As Hiro walked away, feeling unexpectedly good about that encounter, she again heard Sybil's voice echoing around in her head.

_I am thou and thou art I. Thou hast established a new bond. Thou shalt be blessed when calling upon the power of the Priestess arcana._

Biting her lip in frustration, Hiro deflated a little bit.

_So much for a distraction, _she thought.


	21. Chapter Four: REHAB

**Author's Note: **So apparently I am not supposed to write a story involving reader interaction. Very well; I'm an actor, I can take direction. We're going to do it this way from now on:

Occasionally, Hiro will ask herself a question, such as "I wonder what I should do today," or "I wonder which of these people I should go to the party with?" etc. If you review a chapter that ends with one of those sorts of questions, I will assume that you are interested in making a suggestion, and I will PM you about it. You are welcome, in that case, to PM me back with your suggestion as to what choice you think Hiro should make. After all, there is nothing at all wrong with getting inspiration from or taking suggestions from the readers, is there? Of course there isn't.

Thank you for our patience, and please keep your eye out for leading questions!

**Chapter Four: Tried to Make Me Go to REHAB**

Hiro did end up going to the rest of her classes that day, although her heart wasn't really in it. Neither, actually, was anyone else's since they all seemed so distracted by the knowledge that the cast list for the school play should be going up that day. According to some very excited students in Hiro's second period Speech Skills class, the teacher would post the cast list on the first floor bulletin board sometime after lunch. They were particularly excited because the teacher who was directing this play was apparently notorious for being slightly less forgetful and absentminded than the rest of the faculty, and so he might actually remember to post it on time.

While the other students all shoved food into their faces as fast they could, and made a frantic rush for the first floor of the school building, Hiro and Masaru sat alone at one of the tables in the back of the cafeteria.

"Aren't you interested in the cast list?" asked Hiro.

Masaru shrugged, and gave her a rueful smile. "Nah," he admitted. "Not really. I mean, it'll be neat to see who gets what, but…I won't be on it. I took a risk, it didn't work out, and now I've gotta take it like a man. I should have stuck to the smaller parts. Oh, well." He forked a bite of ramen into his mouth. "You should go, though, Hiro. Maybe you got that maid part you wanted."

_Did I really want that part? _She asked herself. _Or was I just trying to prove that I could get it? Anyway, I'm even less likely to get cast as Masaru is, after that little debacle with Shun. _

"No thanks," she assured him. "I'm good. Besides, I haven't finished my lunch."

After another few minutes of earnest eating had gone by Masaru spoke up again. "Um," he began uncertainly, "Look, about that…shadow thing."

Hiro put her fork down. "You can ask," she told him, "but I probably don't know."

"But…we do know some things, right?" insisted Masaru. "We know that those shadows, they're people. Or, they were people. People who took M-Path."

Hiro nodded. "That's right."

"So…" muttered Masaru, staring fixedly at his plate, "If you hadn't been there with your persona, then…that would have happened to me too , right? I mean, I had a shadow thing like that. We saw it, it came and tried to kill you, but you got it. If you hadn't, what would have happened to the rest of me?"

_See? I told you, _thought Hiro. _I told you I wouldn't know the answer. I'm really just as confused about all of this as you are, Masaru, honest. _

"Daniel said that people only turn into zombies after they've taken M-Path for a long time," she reminded him. "I guess those shadow things are what happens after someone turns into a zombie from the M-Path, so no, I don't think it would have happened to you. You'd only taken it once, hadn't you? So you probably would have been fine….I think."

She remembered the horrible claws of the shadow, and the murderous look in its eyes. _Actually, I'm not so sure, _she admitted to herself. Still, Masaru didn't need to hear that.

"I know people who take M-Path," he was mumbling. "I mean, I've got friends who do it. I get mad at them, and everything, and I tell them to knock it off because it's bad for them and it's embarrassing for an artist to have to do that to get ahead, but they do it anyway."

"Ah," murmured Hiro. She was staring to see where this was going, now. It wasn't as much about Masaru as she'd thought.

He bit his lip, and finally looked her in the eye. "Is that gonna happen to them?" he asked finally. "Are they gonna turn into zombies and shadows? We're not gonna let that happen, right?"

He was looking at her beseechingly, trying not to panic but also clearly waiting for her to give the okay. He needed to hear her say that it was going to work out, and for some reason that unnerved her. _What are you asking me, for? _She wondered desperately. _I'm not in charge here, I don't have all the answers. I can't make this magic happen, don't give me that hopeful look! Don't rely on me for something that I have no control over, that cannot end well! _

Hiro, however, seemed to be turning into a sucker for people in need. She'd never really had that problem before, but she was having real trouble disappointing Masaru, a man who'd made sure on her very first day of school that life at Iwasaki wasn't going to have the chance to disappoint her.

"That's why we were given personas, I think," she told him. "So that we could fight M-Path, and so that we could save people."

"Right," agreed Masaru.

"So, that's what we'll do." Hiro nodded. "We'll save people."

That seemed to be what Masaru needed to hear. He relaxed a bit, and went back to eating his lunch. Hiro wished that she could feel relaxed, but if anything, she was only more on edge now than she'd been minutes before.

"We'll need some kind of superhero name," Masaru was muttering to himself as he attacked the ramen. "Something cool, epic, but that also tells people what we do."

Hiro raised an eyebrow. "That…seems a bit much," she said. "Really? A superhero name? It's not like we-!"

"Aha!" Masaru snapped his fingers. "No, listen, I've got it, it's perfect. We'll be Team REHAB. You know, like rehabilitation for druggies and drunkies. Forcing them to feel better with the power of our personas!"

He struck a stoic pose in his seat, wielding his fork like a weapon. Then, seeing the look on Hiro's face, he grinned at her, laughed, and put the fork down. "Aw, come on, a little bit of badassery won't kill us."

"Does REHAB actually stand for anything?" asked Hiro.

Masaru shrugged. "Yeah, we'll come up with the acronym later," he assured her. "Nobody's gonna ask, right? After all, it's just for us. Who are we gonna tell? Like anybody would believe us, anyway." He sighed. "Man, secret superheroes, can't even tell the world about the people we save. I think we're gonna need a theme song to make this legit, too…maybe I could ask one of the guys in the music lab to work on it, for us."

As Masaru chattered on, apparently having totally overcome his misery of minutes ago, Hiro, again, heard Sybil's softly insistent voice in the back of her mind.

_I am thou, and thou art I. Thou hast established a new bond. Thou shalt be blessed when calling upon the power of the Fool arcana._

"What's all this bond stuff?" muttered Hiro, under her breath. "Igor said something about bonds…how they fueled the persona's strength, or something like that. What was it he said exactly?"

"Hmm?" asked Masaru. "You say something?"

Hiro shook her head. "Nothing useful," she admitted. "Forget it."

When lunch was over, Hiro and Masaru cleaned up their plates and headed, finally, for the first floor hallway.

"You're so not a theater kid," Masaru said as they walked over. "Seriously, I've never seen somebody so chill about an audition before. It's like you don't even care…man, you're so cool you're kinda cold. I like it."

Hiro did not think that really deserved any kind of response.

It was easy to find the bulletin board, since every single student involved in drama on campus was crowding around in front of it. Hiro and Masaru couldn't even get close enough to see the blank wall where the list obviously hadn't been posted yet.

"Jeez," muttered Masaru. "Well, we've got a couple of options. We can wait here until the list goes up, or we can try again after class. Up to you."

Hiro was all for going to class. She had just turned in the direction of the stairwell when Manami Matsuoka came running out of the faculty office, looking harassed and with her ribbon askew in her hair.

"I'm so sorry!" she called out, forcing her way through the throng of students. "I'm so, so sorry, but Mr. Honda's stuck in a meeting, and so he asked me if I could put the list up, but then I ran into Miss Maruyama in the hallway, and…oh! Excuse me! I'm sorry, I don't mean to push…"

It did take a few minutes for Manami to get to the head of the crowd, but somehow, and with a lot of polite and deferential murmurings she did finally make it. As she passed by Hiro and Masaru, Hiro noted the very nervous look on poor Manami's face, and she instinctively edged as far forward as she could, pulling Masaru along with her.

There was a brief moment's silence as Manami turned and tacked the cast list up on to the bulletin board.

"They're going to rush the list, aren't they?" asked Hiro suddenly. "All of them at the same time."

Masaru nodded grimly. "Oh yeah. Definitely."

As the throng suddenly flooded forward toward Manami, she gave a little shriek of protest.

Hiro and Masaru moved as fast as they could.


	22. Chapter Five: Should I Stay?

**Author's Note: **Just a short one tonight. Trying out the new system. Go back a couple of chapters if you need a reminder as to how it's going to work from here on out! Thanks for reading, you guys make my days.

**Chapter Five: Should I Stay or Should I Go**

Several minutes later, the crowd had begun to thin out, and students both elated and disappointed were making their way back to their respective dorms and classrooms.

Hiro, Masaru, and Manami were all sitting together against the wall next to the faculty offices, while Manami held a cold compress to a bump on Masaru's right temple.

"That was so wonderfully brave, Masaru-kun!" Manami gushed, eyes wide. "It was amazing, the way you ran straight into all those people and pulled me out of the crowd! I've never seen anything like it before…but I'm so, so sorry about your head. It's all my fault, really. If only I'd moved a little bit faster…"

Masaru shook his head at her, then winced as the motion caused him pain. "Nah," he insisted, "it's fine, really. What were you supposed to do? You just panicked, that's all, with everyone running at you like that. Dunno what Honda was thinking, asking you to post the list when he knows how crazy the kids around here can get about these things…"

Manami smiled. "Oh, well, Mr. Honda has such high ideals. I'm sure he was only assuming the best of the students in his care."

Masaru raised an eyebrow and shrugged. "Yeah," he muttered. "Right, whatever."

"How's your foot, Manami?" asked Hiro, gesturing to Manami's left foot, which had been trampled in the mad rush. "Do you think you can walk on it?"

Manami nodded emphatically. "Oh, yes," she assured them, getting somewhat unsteadily to her feet. "This isn't the first time something like this has happened….you'd think I'd have learned by now, really. I suppose I'm even more hopeless than I thought…"

As the three students walked up the stairs towards the classrooms together, Hiro noticed that same familiar romance novel with the obnoxiously pastel cover peeking out of the top of Manami's backpack.

Masaru apparently noticed it as well. "Oh, hey," he said, pointing the book. "I think Momoko's read that one."

Manami nodded eagerly. "Kawasaki-chan? Yes, she's the one who recommended it to me. I have to remember to thank her, it's a delightful read. I'm almost finished with it…I wonder if the author has written more than one."

Now that Hiro thought about it, she was relatively certain that she'd seen the book before, sitting on the desk in Momoko's room. Momoko had apparently been tearing pages out and using them to test nail polish colors and lipsticks.

"So, uh, you like that stuff?" asked Masaru. "Romance and that kind of thing?"

Something unconsciously derisive in his tone must have gotten through to Manami, because she blushed slightly. "I do. I know it's silly, especially for a librarian…I mean, it's not real literature, of course."

_I wouldn't know real literature if it hit me in the face, _thought Hiro. _Although, I suppose, now that I think about it, all of the Shakespeare I've been reading for class probably counts, and that's pretty good stuff. Maybe they'll make an artist out of me, yet. _

"It's just a fantasy, I suppose, " continued Manami. "Sometimes, I think it's nice to have a little fantasy in life. Dashing gentlemen and damsels in distress, ballgowns, and…oh, I know how it sounds, but it's a pretty daydream. I don't really think there's anything wrong with that."

The discussion of gentlemen and damsels reminded Hiro suddenly that she'd never actually gotten a chance to look at the cast list. As soon as they'd dropped Manami off at her class and had waved goodbye, Hiro and Masaru hurried back down the stairs to the bulletin board.

The crowd had totally cleared out, and there were no other students in sight except, unexpectedly, for Momoko, who was standing on her tiptoes in front of the board and peering at the list. She turned around and beamed at them both as they walked up.

"Oh, Masaru!" she cried. "Congratulations!"

Masaru blinked at her. "Uh, for what?"

Grabbing his hand, Momoko dragged him forward and jabbed a finger excitedly at one of the names on the list. "Here, see? Look, you're Prince Charming! I think we are going to need to do cheekbones, for you. Yes yes, you will need better cheekbones."

While Momoko pondered the landscape of Masaru's face, Masaru stared open mouthed at the cast list.

"I…I got in," he mumbled in shock. "I…they gave me the part after all, instead of Genji. I can't…this is so weird, why would they do that?"

Hiro raised an eyebrow. "I thought you'd be a little more excited about it," she admonished him.

A slow grin started spreading across Masaru's face. Hiro had seen him smile before, many times, but there was something so triumphant and childishly giddy about this particular smile that had her beaming back at him in moments.

"Congratulations, Masaru," she told him, clapping him encouragingly on the shoulder. "They couldn't have picked a better Prince Charming. After all, you were sort of my Knight in Shining Armor this morning, when you scared off that shadow. Seems fitting."

"Huh?" Momoko frowned. "Shadow? What are you talking about? Uh oh, Hiro-san, you didn't get into more fights, did you?"

Hiro and Masaru looked at each other. _Oops, _thought Hiro.

Luckily, Momoko didn't seem to be too interested in the conversation. Instead, she turned around and continued to scrutinize the cast list.

"Oh, wait" she exclaimed. "Hiro, your name's on here too! But…I thought you said that you tried out for the maid part. You never said anything about this…"

Hiro looked at the cast list. There was someone else's name next to the role of "Lady's Maid," and that didn't surprise Hiro at all. She'd known as soon as she walked out of the theater that it was a lost cause. Momoko was right, though. Her name was on the list, and it was written just underneath the words "Assistant Director."

"Wow." Masaru looked as startled as Hiro was. "I, uh, didn't realize you were interested in directing."

"I'm not," Hiro informed him. "This must be some sort of mistake. Maybe they meant to put someone else's name up instead."

Momoko frowned. "I don't know," she murmured."Maybe…"

For some reason, Momoko and Masaru exchanged an aggravatingly significant look.

"What?" asked Hiro. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, it's just, this Honda guy," muttered Masaru. "You know, the one who's directing the school play. He's uh…well, he's kind of a character even by our standards. I mean, he does crazy things, like put people in roles they didn't try out for, or give first years really big leads just to see if they can take the heat."

_Oh, _thought Hiro. _So that's it. _"Is he," she asked, "the kind of teacher who might decide that some student is going to be the assistant director for his show without consulting her first?"

Masaru nodded miserably. "Yep. That's him."

"Oh," insisted Momoko quickly, "but I'm sure you can say no! I mean, he can't force you to do anything you don't want to do, that's definitely against the school rules!"

Something about the way Momoko had phrased that last comment felt odd to Hiro, but she shrugged it off. "You're right," she said."No, I'm sure that I can refuse."

_Of course, _she reminded herself, _if I do refuse, then that means I won't be working on the play t all. Masaru will be doing it and so will Momoko…and even Ren might be participating. I saw Shun's name on that list, too. Honestly, almost everyone I've met here so far is participating in this show. It might get lonely if I decide to say no to being the Assistant Director. Then again, directing is hard, complicated, probably stressful, and takes up a lot of time. If I don't do it, I'll have my evenings free to try other things, and maybe make new friends. It's…well, it's not that easy a decision, when I really think about it. _

"All you'd have to do," Masaru told her, "is go over to the faculty offices and tell him you're not interested. Mr. Honda's in a meeting, right? You can probably go and clear things up right now, no problem."

Momoko was looking a little sad. "It'll be lonely without you, though," she said. "I was looking forward to showing you the way I do witches and dragons…"

They were both looking at her expectantly. Hiro bit her lip.

_So, what now? _She wondered.


	23. Chapter Six: Stupid Girls

**Author's Note: **I'm going to go ahead and give you guys another update before I send Hiro into the faculty offices to give them a yes or no about the assistant directorship. It does look like she's accepted the position, but she hasn't really, or won't have until she talks to the faculty, so in case anyone else would like to make a suggestion or put a vote in, I'm gonna go ahead and wait to do that until the next chapter. Thanks for reading!

For now, here's your next non-choice related update.

**Chapter Six: Stupid Girls**

Hiro sighed.

_Well, _she reasoned, _maybe if I'm no good at acting, at least I can be decent at directing. After all, that's pretty much just ordering people around, isn't it? A monkey could do that. Well, maybe not a monkey, but…anyway, can't be that hard. Sure, why not._

"Actually," she told the others, "it sounds like fun. I'll give it a try."

Masaru and Momoko both looked relieved. Hiro was honestly a little bit flattered that they'd wanted her to be a part of the show that much.

Having decided to accept her lot, Hiro took another, closer look at the cast list. There was Masaru, listed as the Prince Charming. It looked as though Shun, too, had gotten his first choice, and would be playing Wicked King Tohru.

_Come to think of it, _reflected Hiro, _if Shun is playing the King, it's probably better that I'm not playing the maid. That guy is all hands, and he's so loud that I'll just get headaches if I have to listen to him "act" for hours at a time. God help the poor girl who did get the part. Who is it, anyway?_

It was only then that Hiro realized that the name she'd glossed over before next to the role of "Lady's Maid" was Manami Matsuoka's.

"Wha-? Manami? Really?" Hiro's head spun. "But, why didn't she say anything about it before?"

Momoko looked worried. "Are you mad?" she asked.

Hiro shook her head. "No, of course I'm not mad…" _Okay, _she thought, _maybe I'm a little jealous, but…I mean, who could be mad at Manami? She's so…soft, and sort of helpless. It would be like being mad at a bunny. _

"Uh," Masaru was saying, "I don't think she knew that you'd tried out for that part, remember? So, why would she bring it up? Manami's not really the kind who brags about stuff, so…"

Hiro could see that. "Yes," she said, a bit more calmly. "Of course, you're right." _Ho_w _is Manami going to survive being in a scene with Shun? _wondered Hiro. _I guess maybe it's a good thing that I'm assistant directing, or whatever. I'll have to keep an eye on those two. She's pretty and meek, so he'll be all over her in seconds. Oh boy. _

"Just…promise you won't be mad, okay?" insisted Momoko. "Manami's sooo nice. I think you'll really like her!"

Momoko and Masaru had to get to their classes, and Hiro was right on the verge of being late for hers, so they agreed to meet up later for dinner and went their separate ways.

All through her interminable speech class, Hiro mused about the directorship. She wanted to know what it was about her that had made the apparently capricious Mr. Honda want to give her that job. She'd never directed anything before, and she'd never even been the captain of a team or the head of a club. There was nothing in her background that made it look as though she'd be qualified for a leadership position of any kind.

_Maybe, _thought Hiro with an involuntary little grin, _it's because I proved that I can at least keep Shun in line. Wow, I hope that's not it…something tells me that knocking actors around won't be a part of that job, and that's about the only trick I have up my sleeve in that department. Never been much of a people person, really. _

The rest of the day was pretty much the same. Hiro was vaguely aware that classes were happening, and she somehow managed to stay enough in the moment not to get called out by the teachers, but there was way too much going on in her head. Yesterday, she'd been distracted by the persona thing, and now she was distracted from that by the theater. There was just too much to think about, and the day just seemed to stretch on forever. By the time dinner rolled around, Hiro was already yawning and ready for sleep. All the thinking and stewing was exhausting.

"Hey," asked Masaru, as she sat down at the table next to him. "Have you seen Mo-chan? Wasn't she supposed to be here?"

Hiro shrugged. "Stuck late at class, maybe?"

Before Masaru had a chance to reply to that, there was a commotion at the dining hall door. Momoko came running in, sniffling audibly and making little squeaking noises while tears streamed down her face.

"Mo-chan! What's-? Why are you crying?" Masaru stood up to meet her, but Momoko swept right past him and threw herself into Hiro's arms.

There was a brief moment during which Hiro stood, slightly stunned, while Momoko clung to her and wailed.

"Um," she said, looking helplessly at Masaru for guidance. Seeing the plea in Hiro's eyes, Masaru reached out and patted Momoko comfortingly on the back.

"Hey, come on, what's this about?" he asked. "Hiro can't beat anybody up for you unless you tell us what happened, first."

"Masaru," hissed Hiro. "I don't just…randomly beat people up!" He ignored her.

"It…it was so mean," sniffled Momoko miserably, lifting her head away from Hiro's shoulder for a moment. Masaru took the opportunity to thrust a napkin at her, which Momoko used to clumsily wipe at her eyes. "They shouldn't have said those things…it's not true. I'm not stupid."

Light began to dawn in the back of Hiro's mind. _I'm…honestly a little surprised that she's so upset about this, _thought the most treacherous part of her subconscious. _I mean, people probably make that comment about her all the time. _Hiro immediately hated herself for entertaining that thought, but it was too late.

"The hell? Someone called you stupid?" asked Masaru. He seemed to be doing a very good job of sounding surprised.

Momoko nodded. "Mmhmm," she mumbled. "It was Aina-san and Mariko-san, talking in the girls bathroom. They just found out that they're going to be the ugly stepsisters in the school play, and Aina-san was telling Mariko-san that she doesn't want me to do the makeup, because I'm too stupid to know how to make people look good. She says that I'll make them look ugly!" The tears began to flow faster.

"But…Momoko," insisted Hiro carefully. "You did say that those two girls are playing the ugly stepsisters, didn't you? So…aren't they supposed to look ugly?"

Apparently, Momoko didn't find that very helpful. If anything, it only made the situation worse. "I don't make people look ugly!" insisted Momoko, a little more loudly than before. "I don't, I don't! I'm good at makeup, and I'm not stupid!" Her voice drowned out as she dissolved again into sobs.

Hiro gave up. "Of course you're not stupid, of course you're not," she insisted, giving Momoko a cautious little squeeze. "You did a wonderful job on my makeup, didn't you? Not a single person has figured it out this week. It's like you gave me a brand new face. You're wonderful, you really are." _Well, _she thought, _actually, Ren did notice. That's…probably not something I should bring up right now, though. Anyway, he's supposed to be some academic genius, apparently, so maybe it doesn't even count. _

Momoko blinked away tears and peered up into Hiro's face. "You like the makeup?" she asked.

Hiro nodded emphatically. "I love it," she assured her. "It's perfect. It's changed my whole life, and so have you. So don't cry, okay? Please?"

Momoko nodded, making energetic sniffing noises as though doing her best to contain herself. Hiro took that opportunity to glance around at the other students in the dining hall, sure that the scene she and Momoko were causing had probably gotten everyone's attention by now. To her surprise, none of them seemed to be paying any attention to Hiro or her friends. They were eating and chatting as though nothing unusual had happened.

Masaru laughed, and Hiro glanced over at him, raising an eyebrow.

"Drama doesn't get a lot of attention around here," he reminded her. "We're used to it by now."

_Oh, _thought Hiro. _Well, that makes sense._

Aware that Momoko had been crying all over her, Hiro reached up to her face to check and see if she could feel any of the makeup running. Then she stopped, and frowned in thought.

_Well, _she told herself, _that's certainly an idea…_

"Mo-chan," she asked. "How long ago did these girls make fun of you?"

Momoko looked puzzled. "J-just now," she managed. "Why?"

"And," insisted Hiro, "do you think they'll still be in the bathroom? Was it the first floor bathroom?"

"I...think they're there." Momoko nodded. "They were doing makeup and talking, so they probably-!"

Hiro glanced at Masaru. "Masaru," she said, "I think I forgot something in the school building. Will you come back with me and help me look for it? Two pairs of eyes are better than one. Oh, sorry, Momoko, we'll meet you back at the dorm, okay?"

Masaru must have seen the look in Hiro's eyes, because he nodded slowly and stood up. "Um…do we need to get your duffle bag first?" he asked. "The school bathroom's an awfully public place, Hiro."

Hiro shook her head. "What? What are you talking about? Come on, let's just go."

They said goodbye to Momoko, and hurried back across campus towards the school building. As soon as they reached the bathroom, Hiro could hear the voices of the girls inside.

"Do you know the girls that Momoko was talking about?" she asked Masaru.

He shrugged. "Sort of. Not well."

Hiro pointed at the door. "Is that them, in there? Does it sound like them?"

Masaru listened for a moment, then nodded. "Yep. That's Mariko-san's laugh. She sounds like a horse when she laughs. Jeez."

As quickly as she could, Hiro took a couple of napkins out of her pocket. Right before leaving the dining hall, she'd gone ahead and stuck them in a glass of water to dampen them. Now, she wiped them vigorously across her face several times, wincing a little as the rough paper abraded her skin.

"Hiro?" asked Masaru in surprise. "What are you trying to-?"

"Let's just hope these girls read the paper," muttered Hiro. "Or that they watch TV, at least."

At that moment, the door to the bathroom banged open. Two girls, both in alarmingly tight versions of the Iwasaki uniform came walking out. Theirhair piled high on their heads and they had way too much street makeup caked on to their faces. They started to walk right past Hiro and Masaru, but Hiro stepped forward to intercept them.

"Excuse me," she asked the taller of the two, although she wasn't sure if that was Aina or Mariko. "But, um, I'm a little lost, and I was hoping that you could help. My name's Hiromi Endo, and I'm looking for the faculty offices…do you know where those are?"

It took the girl a moment. She spent that moment staring at Hiro's scars in disdain and alarm, before her mouth suddenly dropped open and she gaped.

"Y-you're that girl," stammered the tall girl. "The…the killer girl. The one who…oh, oh my god!"

"Yes, that's right," agreed Hiro pleasantly. "You two are Aina and Mariko, aren't you? I'm a friend of Momoko Kawasaki's. She told me all about you, and she said that you'd be the right person to…wait, where are you going?"

Aina and Mariko hadn't waited to hear the end of Hiro's speech. They were now running full tilt across the hallway, shrieking as they made headway towards the door.

Hiro turned to Masaru, who was now grinning hugely at her.

"Well?" she asked. "Badass enough for you?"

Masaru threw a companionable arm around Hiro's shoulders. "Oh yeah," he assured her. "Definitely. Have I ever told you that you're my Hiro?"

Hiro grinned back at him. "Plenty," she reminded him. "Uh, but let's get out of here before anyone else sees me without my makeup on, okay?"

They headed back towards the dorm together.


	24. Chapter Seven: Out of the Box

**Chapter Seven: Out of the Box**

Hiro and Masaru returned to the dorm, still in high spirits.

"Did you see the look on her face?" Masaru kept asking. "And the way she took off after you told her who you were? Man, it was like she was being chased by some kind of monster. You-! Aw, crap, no, that's not what I meant. Sorry…"

Hiro shook her head. "I know what you meant," she assured him. _Actually_, she thought, _that was kind of fun. Sure, I know I should feel badly about scaring her of like that, but…nope, I don't feel guilty at all. Oh well. I'm only human. So are we all. _

They signed in on the first floor, and then started down the stairs into the basement.

"Do you think we should tell Momoko what happened?" asked Hiro.

Masaru shook his head quickly. "No, no way. Definitely not. She'll be mad. She hates it when anybody fights, remember?"

"But…we did it for her," insisted Hiro.

Masaru shrugged. "Yeah, and that'd probably make it worse. Let's just, uh, keep this one to ourselves, okay? They'll stay away from her now, anyway."

Hiro had to be satisfied with that.

"Hey, Mo-chan!" called Masaru, rapping at Momoko's door. "We're back! You in there? Feeling any better?"

For a moment, there was no answer. Hiro frowned. "Maybe she went to bed early," she suggested. "She was very upset…"

They were just preparing to turn away and go back to Hiro's own room when they heard Momoko scream. Masaru and Hiro both froze in their tracks, turning to stare at each other. Hiro's hear t sank suddenly like a big lead weight. Before she'd even had a chance to wonder, she knew.

_Oh, hell, _she thought miserably.

Masaru threw the door of Momoko's room open, and they both ran inside to find Momoko hunched over on the floor, shaking and holding her head. There were tears drying on her cheeks, and her eyes were wide open in panic and shock. On the floor in front of her was that same horribly familiar envelope, open on one end. Next to it were piles and piles of what looked like textbooks in all different subject fields. There were math textbooks and music textbooks, literature textbooks and chemistry textbooks.

"No way," whispered Masaru in horror. "Mo-chan, not you…"

Momoko stared up at Masaru with something almost like defiance in her eyes. "I'm not stupid," she told him. "I'm not. I'm not!"

"Of course you're not," insisted Hiro carefully. "Momoko, no one thinks that you're stupid. Those horrible girls were just being cruel."

Momoko frowned. "Why?" she asked.

Hiro was surprised. Despite the scream and the wild look in her eyes, Momoko seemed so rational, especially in comparison to the way that Masaru had behaved after he'd first taken the drug. "I don't know why," she admitted. "I don't know why people act like that. Sometimes they're jealous, and sometimes it's…other things, I suppose. Maybe they were just having a bad day, and so they needed someone to hurt to make themselves feel better."

"That doesn't make me feel better," whispered Momoko. "I don't like hurting people."

Hiro nodded. "I know," she said. "You're better than them."

That comment, however, just seemed to make Momoko more upset. She bit her lip, hard, until Hiro saw blood begin trickling out. "But then why does everyone talk about me?" begged Momoko. "They're always talking about me…saying that I don't belong here because I'm dumb. Some people say that the lights aren't all on in my head, and when I failed that math exam last year even my Mom told me that I should leave the school because even if I'm not smart, I can still be happy, and that I don't need to go to a good school to be happy. I don't understand, I don't know why they say all these mean things. I do belong here, at this school. I'm an artist, like you, Masaru! There's stuff I'm good at, too!"

"You're the best," agreed Masaru. "That's what I told Hiro, isn't it? That you're a wizard with your makeup. I meant it, you know I did. Right, Hiro?"

"Right," agreed Hiro, her eyes still fixed on Momoko's face. Momoko nodded once, then swallowed and shuddered a little.

"But the thing I'm good at isn't good enough," she murmured. "Because it's not the right thing. I'm not book smart, I'm not math smart. I can't do lots of numbers in my head, I can't write a book. I can't write a play. I don't know lots of stuff about history, like Ren. I read slowly. I like smaller books, and stuff like…like romance, because it makes more sense. I'm not smart like other girls are smart. It doesn't matter how talented I am, because that's not really the right kind of good. See? Talent can't be like being smart. It's not the same. There's nothing I can do about it, that's just who I am. It won't get better. I won't get smarter. You can't learn to be smart. I can't do it. I tried, but…"

Hiro had been ready for it, but it still sent a cold little shiver down her spine as she watched Momoko's shadow suddenly detach itself from the wall and from Momoko herself. As the shadow stood up to face them, Momoko's body slumped to the ground, and Hiro saw Masaru out of the corner of her eye, fighting the urge to rush to Momoko's side.

"I am the despair," moaned the shadow in a bone-chilling, high pitched pleading voice. "I am the ache of the unanswered prayer. I am the wasted efforts and the wasted tears. I am the shadow, born from the abyss within."

"Shit," mumbled Masaru, as the shadow began to advance on them. "Wait, hang on, just a second. Do you think it hurts her? If we beat up the shadow, I mean. Is Mo-chan gonna feel it?"

"Did you?" retorted Hiro.

Masaru grimaced. "I…don't remember," he admitted.

Hiro shrugged. "Let's hope that's a 'no,' then. Persona!"

Sybil erupted into physical being, and seconds later, so did Patroclus. The two personas loomed together over the shadow, providing a wall and a united front that would have daunted even the bravest of schoolyard bullies.

The shadow, however, seemed unperturbed. Baring it's glistening teeth, it shot forward in a blur, closing the gap between it and Hiro in an instant and biting her hard on the shoulder.

Hiro cried out in pain, and felt the breath catch in her lungs as she winced against the ache. _I wasn't sure, _she realized, _that it could really hurt us. None of the shadows have ever managed to, before. I had hoped that maybe, just maybe, they couldn't really…_

Masaru let out an angry growl, and then Patroclus was suddenly on the shadow, his antique sword slicing down hard across the shadow's shoulder blades, gashing it terribly across the neck. To any human, that would have been a fatal blow, but the shadow somehow struggled on, now turning its attention to Masaru.

_My turn, _thought Hiro. Sybil already had her head spinning and her masks whirring around in preparation for the attack. From somewhere deep inside her soul, Hiro felt a new command well up, and she opened her lips to murmur, "Agi."

Sybil's head slowly came to a stop, and when she removed a mask this time, Hiro realized that she was staring into a different face. The face that Sybil revealed this time was glaring out at the shadow through Masaru's eyes, and somehow out of the eyes of Patroclus at one and the same time. The impression made no sense, but Hiro didn't have time to think too hard about it. Sybil's eyes flashed, and a roaring burst of flame came cascading out, engulfing and burning the shadow to ash before it had a chance to wage any further war on the newly fledged REHAB team.

"Hey, are you okay?" asked Masaru, hurrying to Hiro's side. He reached out and touched her shoulder, and she winced at the contact where the wound was still raw.

"Ohh," whispered Momoko, shaking herself and starting uncertainly to her feet. "Hiro-san? Why are you here? I had a bad dream…and it was so scary!" She looked as though she might cry again, and this time it was Hiro who reached out and gave her a comforting hug.

"Why did you take it, Momoko?" asked Hiro.

Momoko shook her head, not looking up. "I wanted to see if I could be smart," she mumbled. "Everyone says that M-Path can make you feel things, so…I thought that maybe if I took it and then read all of my hard books, I'd start to feel the right way, the way the guy who wrote the book felt when he was coming up with all the big smart ideas. Maybe the numbers would all make more sense if I could feel like the smart people feel, like people who are good at math and people are good at science, and…I guess it didn't work. I'm sorry. I made a stupid mess again."

"Jeez, Mo," muttered Masaru. "You scared the shit out of us, you know that? You really are pretty dumb."

Momoko blinked up at him in hurt surprise.

"You're dumb," continued Masaru, "if you think that we want you to be like those other girls. Who cares if you're bad at math, or whatever? I'm bad at math. Hiro's bad at not punching people. Hey, everybody's bad at some stuff. You're good at being you, what the hell else matters?"

Momoko opened her mouth in surprise, then closed in again, apparently unsure what to say. "Really?" she asked eventually. "You don't mind that I'm…um…that I'm not-?"

"We don't care what you're not," said Hiro quietly. "We care what you are. You are an artist, a makeup genius, and you're a kind person. You're a good friend. You're generous, and optimistic, and you make people smile. No amount of academic genius will ever be able to compete with that, Momoko. You can't learn those things. You can't pretend them, either. Those are really you, and you're really more than good enough for this school and for any other school. I don't want you to ever think anything different."

"Yeah," agreed Masaru. "It's those other girls who are stupid for not getting what really matters, okay? So, cheer up."

In fact, Momoko did seem to be perking up. She smiled at Masaru and then at Hiro with sunshine stamped all over her face.

"I love you both," she told him, beaming. "You're my favorites."

Hiro gave her another little squeeze.

There was a flash of dazzling light from the pile of shadow ashes, and as the world swam back into focus, the ashes disappeared and something else emerged from their place. This time it was a woman, pale and dark-haired, with a puzzled sort of look on her face, and the light of curiosity shining out of her eyes. She held a black box in her hands, and as she opened it something glowed and glittered from deep inside, lighting up the contours of her lovely and childlike features.

"I am Pandora,' she murmured, sounding almost surprised by her own words. "I will help guide you through the darkness of this world."

"Wow," whispered Momoko, smiling at Pandora. "Thank you."

For a long moment, Momoko and Pandora gazed at each other. Hiro was distracted from their union by the increasingly painful ache in her shoulder. She knew there must be quite a bit of blood, and tried not to think too hard about what sort of infections a drug-induced shadow monster might be carrying.

"It looks pretty bad," muttered Masaru, shooting the shoulder a worried glance.

"Oh." Momoko wandered over, leading the slightly alarmed looking Pandora by the hand. "We can fix it, right Pandora? See? Watch."

Pandora reached out and laid a hand on Hiro's shoulder. Hiro did her best not to lurch away from the unfamiliar touch.

"Dia!" declared Momoko.

A soft, blue light spread from beneath the palm of Pandora's hand, and as it touched the corners of Hiro's wound they began to close and heal away. Soon, the wound was completely gone, and all that Hiro could feel was the strange and lingering tickle of where a scar probably should have been, but wasn't.

"Thank you, Pandora," she murmured, staring at the shoulder in surprise.

Momoko looked delighted. "Yay!" she announced, bouncing a little bit. "We fixed it!"

_I am thou, and thou art I, _intoned Sybil in Hiro's head. _Thou hast established a new bond. Thou shalt be blessed when calling upon the power of the Sun arcana. _

"Yeah," muttered Hiro. "I figured."

Momoko inclined her head. "Hiro-san," she asked. "Why are you talking to yourself?"


	25. Chapter Eight: Plan of Attack

**Author's Note: **By the way, if you guys are enjoying this story, then I have some fanfic suggestions for you! Both **Sraosha** and **MoldyJellyBean** have written beautiful, epic original persona stories on this website. If you have some time, look them up; you won't regret it! They're both artists with prose.

If you have an original persona story, by the way, please let me know! I'd love to read it! The only way to improve my craft is to read as much of other people's work as possible! I'd love to see yours! :)

**Chapter Eight: Plan of Attack**

Hiro was a bit tired. She was sure that had something to do with the uncertainty she'd been experiencing lately, and the crazed direction that her new life at Iwasaki seemed to be taking. Sitting on the floor and idly running her fingers over the place on her shoulder where her wound had so recently been, she listened as Masaru explained to Momoko as much as he could about personas, shadows, M-Path, and the Velvet Room. Momoko was very patient and quiet the whole time, nodding eagerly and biting her lip as she watched the changing moods on Masaru's expressive face.

_He tells a good story, _thought Hiro absently. _Well, I shouldn't be surprised. After all, he is a performer. Maybe his Prince Charming really will spice up the school play. I always thought of Prince Charming as a boring sort of high-born thug, but I don't think it has to be that way. Maybe Masaru will give him some real character. He certainly has plenty to go around. _

"And so," Masaru finished, "Hiro and I decided that we're going to call ourselves 'team REHAB,' because we're going to go around and, you know, sort of try to rehabilitate all the people on that M-Path drug. Just like we saved you, we're gonna save all the others."

"Wow." Momoko looked suitably impressed. "That's so brave and cool!" She glanced over at Hiro, and there was delight and admiration shining out of her eyes. Hiro looked self consciously at her shoes.

"So…you're gonna help us, right?" asked Masaru.

Momoko blinked at him in surprise. "What?"

Masaru frowned thoughtfully. "Uh…I guess that isn't fair," he admitted. "I mean, I guess you get to decide if you want to be on the team. Yeah, of course you do. It's just that since you have a persona now, I figured you'd probably want to help out."

Momoko apparently had to think long and hard about that one. For a moment, Hiro was actually impressed. Masaru seemed to be treating this very much like a game, despite his strong initial misgivings. The contemplation on Momoko's face implied that maybe she recognized just how grave and dangerous the situation really was.

"Do we get team jackets?" she asked eventually. "Or hats? Because I don't really like hats…"

Hiro buried her face in her hands. _I don't know who I thought I was kidding, _she told herself. _Momoko's probably never been really grave or serious for a day in her whole life. _

"Oh, wait," said Masaru, getting to his feet. "No, forget hats. Before you decide, there's something that Hiro and I have to show you."

Hiro and Masaru led a very curious Momoko up three flights of stairs to the third floor.

Momoko's reaction was typical of her.

"Oh," she said, blinking around at the hallway. "I never knew this was here before. Well, I guess it's true that you learn something new every day!"

"I…don't think that this really is here, so to speak," murmured Hiro. "I think that maybe only persona users like us can see it."

Masaru shrugged. "Either way, this isn't the part that I wanted to show you. Here, Mo-chan, take a look at this."

He stepped forward and pulled open one of the doors, to reveal the same pitch-black room that they'd found the shadow in before. As they watched, the room lit up with a flash of yellow light, which for Hiro at least illuminated the Velvet Room door back against the far wall.

Momoko looked puzzled. "It's pretty…" she said. "Very shiny. Um…what is it?"

"Can you see the door?" asked Hiro. "The blue door, all the way inside?"

Momoko and Masaru looked at each other.

"Hey, Hiro," muttered Masaru hesitantly. "Remember how we talked about this? How there might not actually be a door in there, and maybe, uh…"

Hiro gave him a look, and the words died away on Masaru's lips.

_I'm not crazy, _she told herself fiercely. _If all the rest of this is real, then why can't the door be real, too? And why is it that neither of the others seem to have the voices in their heads, about bonds and all that "thou shalt" stuff? I mean, okay, I know that Sybil's my persona, and that they wouldn't hear her voice, but shouldn't they be hearing the voices of their personas? Why am I the only one who seems to have that problem? Is it because I'm the one that Igor chose, the "wild card?" But he said I'm not that person, after all, am I? Or…wait, was that what he said?_

"Eek!" Momoko shrieked and took several steps back as a shadow suddenly appeared in a burst of blue light, and came careening towards them.

Masaru stepped forward, but Hiro was faster. She pushed in front of him, and slammed the door shut, forcing the shadow to crash into the door. The thudding sound they heard indicated that it might have ricocheted off, and hit the ground on the other side.

"Please," muttered Hiro, "not today. I'm sorry, Masaru, but I'm tired. We'll come back tomorrow and try to figure the rest of this out. Having Momoko along may speed things up, because three people are bound to make more headway than two, but…just not today, okay? I need a break. Badly."

She didn't wait for Masaru to answer. Instead, she turned around, left the nonexistent third floor, and headed back towards her own basement room.

She didn't listen to hear if they were following her, although she sincerely hoped they were. The idea of leaving them alone to face whatever was lurking inside that room made her blood run cold, but she needed a rest almost desperately, and she was sure, or at least mostly sure that Masaru and Momoko would understand.

Hiro didn't see either of the others again until she arrived at the dining hall the next morning for breakfast. Without Momoko's help, Hiro did the best she could to cover up her scars with the makeup, but wasn't surprised when she looked in the mirror to see that the job wasn't nearly as good as the one Momoko would have done. It wasn't awful, but it wasn't enough. She settled for throwing on a hoodie and pulling the hood down over her face.

Masaru and Momoko were sitting at their usual table, each of them halfway through an extremely soggy looking omelet, talking excitedly in hushed voices. Momoko beamed at Hiro as soon as she saw her.

"Hiro-san!" she called, waving enthusiastically. "Are you feeling better?"

Hiro sat down at the table, and Momoko pushed a third omelet over in her direction. Hiro eyed it dubiously. "Listen," she began, "about last night…I'm sorry, I'd just had enough for one day. It must have hit me all of a sudden, because I just-!"

Momoko shook her head. "Oh, that's fine! No worries!" she assured Hiro.

"Anyway," added Masaru, dragging something heavy out from underneath the table, "when you left, we didn't really want to go in without you, so we just ended up going back downstairs…and that gave us way more time to plan!'

_Uh oh, _thought Hiro.

"Here." Masaru heaved the thing up on to the tabletop, and Hiro saw that it was an old duffle bag, patched and re-sewn in several places. He unzipped the bag, reached in, and pulled out a heavy baseball bat and a huge pair of wicked looking curved scissors.

"Weapons!" announced Momoko gleefully. "We found them around the dorm!"

Hiro winced. "Not so loud," she hissed. "If the teachers think that we're collecting 'weapons,' they'll throw us into detention or worse. Why did you bring those into the dining hall anyway?"

Masaru took the bat, and then handed Momoko the scissors. Suddenly, Hiro recognized the scissors as the same ones that she'd been terrified of when Momoko had first started in on her hair and makeup.

"And this," said Masaru, passing her the bag, "is for you."

Hiro stared at it.

"It looks like this thing would fall apart if you sneezed on it," she informed him. "You want me to hit shadows with this?"

Masaru looked slightly embarrassed. "Well, uh, I don't know, I mean…I thought all the patches and the rips made it look kinda badass. Weapons are supposed to look menacing, right? Your bag is just sorta too new."

Hiro sighed. "My bag is fine. You should…probably throw this thing away." She dumped the bag back on to the floor.

"Sorry Masaru," chirped Momoko. "I guess she didn't like it. Oh well, next time!"

To Hiro's surprise, Masaru did look honestly hurt. "Yeah, right," he mumbled.

_Should I have taken it anyway? _Hiro wondered. _Was that supposed to be some kind of present? Seriously, when I start getting weapons as presents? What is happening to my life? _

"Maybe we could fix it," suggested Hiro. "Uh, Momoko, can you sew at all?"

"Yup!" agreed Momoko."Sure can!"

Masaru shook his head and waved a dismissive hand at her. "Just forget it, seriously," he muttered. "Anyway, we've got other stuff to talk about. Mo-chan and I realized something, last night."

"We did?" asked Momoko, looking genuinely interested.

"Yeah." Masaru put the baseball bat and then the scissors back into the bag. "After you left, she and I started trying to figure out what we both know about M-Path. I mean, we've both taken it, and we both know some other people who take it, but…that's it. I mean, we can't even remember the name of the guy who sold it to us, he was just some kid that everybody knows hangs out behind the school after dark."

"It's a mystery…" murmured Momoko delightedly, shivering a little. "Oooh, that's so exciting. No one knows where M-Path really comes from!"

"Yeah." Masaru shrugged. "So, we figured that what we really need to do, if we want to stop this stuff from hurting people is to find out how to get it off the streets. The police tried to do it a few weeks ago in this big campus crackdown, but it didn't work, obviously. Now, I guess it's our turn."

Hiro thought about that for a moment. "It certainly makes sense," she said after a moment, "that you have to go to the root of a problem to fix it. I think it's a good idea, but…"

"But," finished Masaru, "if we want to do that, we have to start doing some serious street work. You know, figuring out how to get the stuff, who's buying it and who's selling it."

Hiro frowned. "It's going to be harder than it looks. If the police couldn't do it, we might not stand much of a chance."

"If at first you don't succeed," sang Momoko, "try, try again!"

Masaru blinked at Momoko in surprise. "Hey," he said. "You actually got that one right!"

Momoko frowned. "What?"

"Oh, uh, forget it," muttered Masaru. "Anyway, Hiro, that's the problem. You're kind of the leader, so…what do you think? What's our next move?"

_The leader? _Thought Hiro. _Wait, hold on just a minute, I never volunteered for that. Okay, maybe I did start using my persona first, and maybe I am the only one that Igor and Daniel seem to want to talk to, but that doesn't make me a leader. Actually, that just makes me unlucky as hell. Don't put me in charge of t his little operation, Masaru. You'll regret that. We all will. _

"Yoo-hoo, Hiro!" Momoko called. "You're zoning out! Are you talking to the voices again? Are they being nice to you?"

_She makes me sound like I really am completely nuts, _reflected Hiro miserably. Out loud, she said "What? Oh. Yeah, something like that. Sorry, I just got a little sidetracked. Um, about the M-Path…let me think about it. I'm sure we can come up with something. You say there's some guy lurking around behind the school, right? So, our first step is to find and talk to him."

Masaru nodded. "Sure, sounds good. What else?"

"Oooh!" announced Momoko. "I bet Manami has some books in the library about drugs! Lots of people write plays about drugs, maybe she knows something about M-Path…or her books do, anyway."

"Okay," agreed Hiro, "so we should talk to Manami at the library. Fine. Is that it?"

"We could, uh, maybe see if the police know anything," suggested Masaru hesitantly. "I mean, hey, they're probably not gonna tell us, and it might piss them off, but it could be worth a try. After all, I don't think you can get arrested or anything for just asking…right?"

Hiro nodded. _Okay, _she thought, _so we've got three options, here. We can go to the library and talk to Manami, we can try to find that creepy guy, or we can go and try talking to the police. Honestly, we're probably going to have to do all of those things, but the question is, really, what should we do first? _

She was suddenly aware that Masaru and Momoko were both looking at her eagerly.

"So?" asked Masaru. "What's our next step, leader?"

Hiro winced.

**Author's Endnote: **Remember, guys, if you want to make a suggestion, please review the story first. I will PM you, and then you can respond in a PM giving your suggestion. I know, this sounds crazy and nuts, but I REALLY don't want to get my story shut down…thanks for understanding!


	26. Chapter Nine: The Value of Research

**Chapter Nine: The Value of Research**

After some discussion on the subject, Hiro, Masaru, and Momoko agreed that it would probably be a good idea to tackle their library research first. As soon as morning classes were over, they made their way up to the library.

Having met him there once before, Hiro was only slightly surprised this time to see Ren standing at the help desk, engaged in conversation with a smiling Manami.

"…and in the end," he was telling her, "my search proved fruitless, and the tome in question was not on any of the shelves or in any of the locations in which one might logically expect to find it. I fear that I have exhausted the possibilities available to a single individual, and so I find I must avail myself of the computer records."

Manami nodded. "Certainly! I'll look it up for you right now. Um, if you wouldn't mind giving me the title one more time?"

"Wow," muttered Masaru in Hiro's ear. "So, that's where he goes."

Hiro raised an eyebrow. "What?" she asked.

"I've seen him leaving the dorm, like, every morning for the past two weeks," he told her. "There's no way he used to do that. I mean, hey, as far as I know he pretty much never used to come out of his room, and now he's always rushing out right before I start classes."

Hiro nodded. "It's probably because he's working on the new play," she whispered. "Manami says that he does a lot of historical research, here."

For some reason, Masaru gave her a strange look. Then, unexpectedly, he laughed. "Sure," he said. "Right, yeah. Research. So that's what they're calling it these days…"

Hiro had no idea what he was talking about, but she didn't have time to ask. Unfortunately, Masaru's laugh appeared to have caught Ren's attention, and he turned away from Manami to glare at them over top of the books he was carrying.

"If you'll excuse me," mumbled Ren, giving Manami a polite little nod. "It appears we have become fodder for the amusement of the peanut gallery. Have a pleasant afternoon, Miss Matsuoka. Thank you very much for all of your help."

Ren swept past them without saying another word, and retreated out into the hallway. Manami called after him as he left.

"Oh, but, Yamaguchi-senpai! I never had a chance to look up that book! I…oh. Oh, well." She sighed. "Hello, you three! Nice to see you! Is there something I can help you with, today?"

They walked over to the desk, and Hiro now saw that, as usual, there was a romance novel sitting on the counter in front of Manami. This one was different from the book that she'd seen before. Presumably Manami had already finished the other one and moved on to a new title.

"Um, yeah, actually," said Masaru. "So…you've got a computer back there, right? We're looking for some books on drugs."

Manami looked startled.

"Wait, no," insisted Masaru hastily, as sweat started to appear on his forehead. "Not like that. We don't want to learn how to take drugs, or anything , it's just, uh, research. For a play that we're writing together."

"Oh!" Manami's face cleared, and she nodded understandingly. "Of course, we have lots of plays about drugs and drug abuse…it seemed to be a very popular topic with twentieth century authors, as a matter of fact. Is there any drug in particular that you'd like me to look for?"

"M-Path!" announced Momoko, before either Masaru or Hiro had a chance to stop her. Hiro held her breath and hoped for the best. Masaru's cover story hadn't been a bad one, but still…

Manami nodded again, smiled, and turned around to start typing at the computer. "You know," she said, as she glanced through the files listed on the screen, "it makes a lot of sense, writing a play about M-Path, because it is, of course, one of today's big issues. I don't think anyone's ever written something like that before, because M-Path's such a new drug. You really might have something, there! Is it for a class, or for a contest, or…oh, or should I not ask? I'm sorry, that's nosy of me, isn't it? Never mind, I'll just have to wait and see the play when you finish it!"

"Right, haha…yeah, thanks." Masaru managed a half-grin, while the three of them watched Manami's back. It did take a few minutes, but eventually she sighed, shook her head, and turned back around to face them.

"Well, I guess it's both good news, and bad news," she told them. "Unfortunately, there aren't any plays or books in the system about the M-Path drug, as far as I can tell. Don't be too disappointed, though. That just means that no one has gotten there first! You'll have the first play about the drug, and that means you won't have anyone to compete with or compare with! That's wonderful! You're breaking new artistic ground! This is really very exciting." She really did look delighted, and although Momoko beamed effortlessly back at her, Hiro felt uncomfortable and guilty. It didn't seem right, getting Manami so enthusiastic about a lie, and about a play that was never actually going to be written.

_It just feels dirty, _thought Hiro. _Then again, I suppose as long as it's for the greater good…_

"Thanks for all your help!" chirped Momoko.

"Yeah," agreed Masaru. "Definitely."

He exchanged a quick, unhappy look with Hiro.

_Oh, good, _thought Hiro. _So I'm not the only one who didn't enjoy that. _

"You're so welcome," said Manami. "I'm really looking forward to seeing your work. Please, come back any time! I'll keep looking for books in the meantime; maybe I'll find something in the stacks that hasn't been catalogued properly. You never know!"

Hiro had just opened her mouth to say something, although she wasn't yet entirely sure what, when Sybil's voice suddenly took control of her headspace and distracted her from the task at hand.

_Your ability to call upon the powers of the Sun arcana has increased!_

_Your ability to call upon the powers of the Magician arcana has increased!_

"Whoa," exclaimed Hiro. "What the-?"

_Your ability to call upon the powers of the Priestess arcana has increased!_

"Agh!" Hiro clutched at her head. "What is going on? What is this? Stop it!"

She waited a moment, but it seemed as though the voice had finally finished. When she looked up again, Hiro saw that Manami was giving her a very strange, alarmed sort of look.

"Are…are you all right, Hiro-san?" asked Manami hesitantly.

"Um," managed Hiro. She looked desperately at Masaru for help.

Momoko peered up into Hiro's face." Ooh!" she said, shaking her head and looking genuinely concerned in an almost motherly way. "Are you talking to the voices in your head, again?"

Manami's eyes widened "Voices…in your head?"

"Momoko!" hissed Hiro.

Masaru shook his head sadly. "Yeah," he told Manami. "Sorry, this happens sometimes. She just hasn't been the same since she hit her head in that awful accident. You know how it is."

"Since I…wait, what?" asked Hiro. "Hold on!"

"Come on, Hiro!" sang Momoko, urging her towards the door." Time for your medicine!" Masaru and Momoko had Hiro out of the library before she had any further chance to protest.

"Why did you have to make me sound like I'm crazy?"shouted Hiro as they headed down the stairs. "I am not crazy! You know that I'm not crazy."

_But of course, that's not true, _she told herself. _They don't know that I'm not crazy. After all, neither of them have people announcing things inside their heads at random intervals. They probably think I am crazy. I really have to talk to Igor about his. Or Daniel. Maybe I'll talk Daniel, that might get the job done faster. Of course, the fact that I can see Igor and Daniel and no one else can really does only add to the problem…_

"We had to say something," reasoned Masaru.

"Yes!" agreed Momoko. "Now she just thinks your head is messed up, so if it happens again, she won't mind! That was really smart, Masaru!" She gave Masaru an adoring look. Hiro's blood boiled.

"Forget it," she muttered. "Just…never mind. Anyway, we didn't find anything good at the library, so that was a bust. Where to next?"

Both Masaru and Momoko had to think about that for a moment. Eventually, Masaru shook his head.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I mean, okay, we still have to try to talk to that dealer guy who hangs out by the school at night, and it wouldn't be a bad idea to see what the police know, but the library was our best bet. I mean, we need to find out some stuff about how the drug works. Because really, the police and the dealers may not even know that stuff. They're all about where it comes from and how to push it, or how to get it back. We need more detailed stuff than that. I don't know where we're gonna find that information."

"Manami-san said that no one's ever written about M-Path before," mused Momoko. "It's a mystery drug. Maybe nobody knows. Oh no…"

That was a very disheartening thought. Masaru and Momoko looked disappointed.

Hiro, on the other hand, was starting to get an idea. It was not an idea that she particularly liked, and it sent an unpleasant little shiver down her spine as she realized just what a potentially excellent idea it was.

"Crap," she muttered.

Masaru raised an eyebrow. "Huh?

Hiro bit her lip. "It's nothing," she mumbled. "I just…thought of something, maybe."

_I know someone, _she thought, _who might have the information that we need. I know someone who knows a lot of things about drugs, and who might be able to tell us more about M-Path, or even about what we're supposed to do now that we're trying to get the drug off the streets. I'm not sure why I didn't think of it before…no, I am sure. I've been trying not to think about it. I don't want to think about it. I hate this idea, and who could blame me? But it's probably the fastest way, and it wouldn't be fair to the others to pretend it's not an option. Ugh, when did I start developing an overactive conscience? You know, we could still walk away from this, there's no one forcing us or saying that we have to be some saviors of the universe. Nobody can do that. It's not our responsibility. It's definitely not mine. What did the universe ever do for me?_

"Hiro?" asked Masaru. "Are you okay? Seriously, um...look, I know you said you were tired yesterday, so if you need some more time…"

Hiro looked up into the faces of her two friends, and then closed her eyes.

_Okay, _she thought. _Maybe the universe hasn't done much for me, but someone has. Can't let the team down, that's not how the game's played._

"No," she insisted. "I'm okay. I think. Listen, what are you two doing on Saturday? We might need to take a day trip…you know, on the train."

Momoko's eyes lit up. "The train?" she asked. "I love the train!"

_Of course you do, _thought Hiro.


	27. Chapter Ten: The Long and Winding Road

**Author's Note: **I freely confess that I am taking some slight liberties with the justice system here. If you are familiar with the Japanese justice system and the security in Japanese penitentiaries, please suspend your disbelief and remember that this is, in all fairness, a fantasy novel. Thanks for your patience!

**Chapter Ten: The Long and Winding Road**

**January 21, 2013**

Somehow, remarkably, Friday slipped by without anything unexpected or terrifying happening in Hiro's life. At least, she thought it did. If something terrible did happen, she was too preoccupied to notice. There were other issues pressing her from sleep as the minutes ticked by on the clock and brought Saturday inexorably closer and closer.

On Saturday morning, Hiro was up early. She hadn't been able to sleep much, anyway. Momoko was already waiting outside.

"Good morning!" Momoko announced. "It's trip day! Today, I have special makeup for you! I'm gonna make you even prettier than usual, because we're having a vacation!"

Hiro shook her head. "Actually, um, if you don't mind, Momoko, I don't think I'm going to wear any makeup today."

Momoko looked surprised, and a little bit hurt. "Why?"

"Just trust me," suggested Hiro, biting her lip. I don't have to worry about being recognized, where we're going. You'll, um…you'll see what I mean when we get there."

_I really should tell her, _thought Hiro. _There's no point in being cagey about it, but…well, if I tell her, what if she doesn't want to go? I don't really think that I want to go there alone. It's childish, but there it is. _

Momoko's eyes widened. "Oh, is it a surprise? Is it a surprise vacation? That's so much fun, yay! Should I go get Masaru? He's such a sleepy head, I'll get him. You wait here!"

As Momoko bounced out of the room and off to find Masaru, Hiro felt something inside of her shrivel up and die. _It's worse because she's so happy, _she thought miserably. _I hate disappointing happy people. It's hard enough to be happy as it is, and now I'm going to go and spoil it._

Of course, rationally, Hiro know that wasn't true. Momoko was pretty much always happy, even thirty seconds after being attacked by a giant shadow version of her inner feelings. Still, maybe it was the lack of sleep, the dreams she wished she didn't have or just something about the melancholy atmosphere in her soul, but Hiro felt a bit sick. She sighed.

"I wish we really were going on a vacation," she muttered. "It sounds like fun."

Shaking her head, Hiro went for a shower. When she came back, she found Momoko and Masaru waiting for her, and the three of them set off out of the campus gates and back towards the train station.

"Can I have a hint?" asked Momoko eagerly. "Oooh, maybe I can guess. Tell me the first letter of the name of the place! No, um, the first and the second letter!"

"Knock it off, Mo-chan," muttered Masaru. He was frowning into Hiro's face, apparently trying to read her expression. Hiro glanced down at her shoes and cursed herself for being a bad actress.

When they arrived, the train was just pulling into the station. Hiro stepped up to the counter. "Three tickets for Kinjo Prison," she said.

Masaru grunted something under his breath. "Ooh," murmured Momoko, sounding a little bit like a quickly deflating balloon.

Hiro winced. "You don't have to come if you don't want to," she reminded them, trying not to sound too desperate. "I mean, it's not like I can't take care of this by myself."

"Nah," insisted Masaru quickly, "this is a good idea. I mean…we want answers about drugs and drug sales, right? So, this is probably the quickest way. It's smart, and it's…yeah, definitely, count me in."

"So…" mumbled Momoko, "I don't need my bathing suit?"

Masaru and Hiro both stared at her "It's the middle of January," said. Hiro. "So, no. Probably not."

Momoko sighed. Masaru shook his head, and started on to the train. Hiro and Momoko followed him.

It wasn't a very long ride. While the train rolled along, Hiro occupied herself by watching the city scenery outside her window. Lots of people were out and rushing around on Saturday morning, doing their best to fit their short-lived recreation into a fast-paced schedule that hardly changed from one week to another. That was the way things were in the city, and that was the way Hiro liked it. Moving around, getting things done accomplishing tasks and goals was one way to keep her mind from wandering. Long train trips with nothing to do except homework left too much space in her brain, and she ended up thinking too hard.

Right now, she was thinking of her father, something she'd been very carefully avoiding for almost a week. Her new life at Iwasaki and her new identity as Hiro Kotone left very little time for frustrating reminisces, and Hiro wasn't in the habit of wasting her life with impractical strolls down memory lane.

_They say, _she thought involuntarily, _that prison can do horrible things to a man. It can weaken and damage him, physically and mentally. I wonder what father will look like, now. I wonder what he'll sound like._

Then, the horrible, treacherous little voice at the very back of her mind whispered _and I wonder if I care. Maybe I don't. _

"Hey, Hiro," muttered Masaru. "Look, um…you never say anything about your Dad. I mean, I know who he is, and all, but…"

"There's nothing to say," snapped Hiro. She hadn't meant it to come out as a snap, but he'd interrupted an unpleasant train of thought, and she'd reacted without thinking. More gently, she added, "Sorry. Anyway, there hasn't been any reason to talk about him, and there isn't any now. We're not going to visit my father; we're going to visit an inmate who might be able to give us some information about M-Path, that's all."

There was a moment's pause. "But…" said Momoko, sounding uncertain, "but, he is your Daddy isn't he?"

For some reason, the word "Daddy" instead of "Father" conjured up a totally different image for Hiro. It was the image of her father the way he'd been when she was five years old, a huge laughing man with big arms that he'd used to swing her back and forth and around and around in circles while her mother made frustrated clicking noises and shouted at him not to drop her little girl. "Daddy" made Hiro think of the man who'd put his arm around her while she'd cried over the skinned knee that the school bullies had given her, and who had railed and threatened to beat up their parents, the school principle and everybody else who came anywhere near her from now on. Daddy was the man who'd let her taste her first cup of coffee with chocolate in it, and then sat up with her all night, laughing and building towers of blocks for her to knock down while she wrestled with caffeine-induced insomnia. "Daddy" was the man who'd shouted her first boyfriend out of the house, and then shouted at her when she'd thrown a shoe at him for kicking out the "first boy she'd ever loved," even though he was just some high school jerk who'd been willing to give her a second look despite the scars. "Daddy" had kissed her on the forehead and told her not to settle for anybody, not ever. That was "daddy." Those images just didn't fit with the one that Hiro had in her head now, the picture of a broken man with a drug problem and blood on his hands, glaring out at her and snarling from behind prison bars. They weren't the same person.

"No," she said. "He's not." That seemed to sufficiently puzzle Momoko. Both she and Masaru fell thoughtfully silent. The rest of the train ride passed that way, with no one seeming to have anything else to say.

"Kinjo Prison, next stop," called the conductor finally, and Hiro stood up. She, Masaru, and Momoko all filed off the train, and found themselves standing in front of an impressive looking fortress, ominous and huge, it's very walls screaming warnings and threats without saying a word.

"I don't like it here," mumbled Momoko. "It's scary."

"You don't have to come," Hiro reminded her. That, apparently, had no effect When Hiro started forward through the prison doors, Masaru and Momoko came anyway.

It took a few minutes to get through the chain of security. Hiro found herself having heated conversations with several prison officials, many of whom looked neither too bright nor too happy as she tried to explain to them that, yes, she was in fact the daughter of Nobu Endo, and she would like to have a suitably monitored conversation with him for a few minutes.

_It probably doesn't help that I haven't been here since he was locked up, _she thought. _If I'd made a huge deal out of sobbing and grieving and trying to break through the bars to my daddy dear, I'm sure the prison staff would be much more sympathetic. I really should practice having hysterics more often, people love that stuff. _

"Please," she said finally, to probably the fourth or fifth warden that she'd been forced to speak to. "I just want fifteen minutes. Then my friends and I will leave, but it's important, okay?"

The warden frowned. "How important?"

_If I tell him it's for school, he'll think I'm nuts, _reflected Hiro. _If I tell him it's about drugs, he'll…uh, think I'm guilty. Options are limited, here._

"It's personal_," _she said finally. "Family stuff. Nothing secret, you're welcome to sit in, obviously. Not, I'm sure, that there's any other way."

The warden clearly had to spend some time thinking about that, and then had to consult several more people about it before finally giving in. Eventually, just as Hiro was beginning to believe that she had dragged her new friends all this way for absolutely nothing, the warden returned to usher her out.

"Wait here," she told her friends, both of whom were now looking some combination of extremely worried and bored. "I'll be back in fifteen minutes." Then she followed the warden into another room, where she found herself staring through a large glass window at an empty room on the other side. As she watched, a door in the other room opened, and then two guards came in, escorting from either side a muscular man who walked with his head held high, but with his shoulders slightly bowed and his fists clenched at his sides. His once long brown hair had been shaved off, and there was something disturbingly vulnerable about his now almost bald head that didn't fit very well with the fierceness of his chiseled face.

"Father," murmured Hiro.

Nobu Endo looked up into Hiro's face, and for just a moment something flickered in his eyes. His mouth opened slightly in surprise. Then he closed it again, and his jaw hardened as he nodded.

"Hiromi," he said. "Why are you here?"

Hiro wasn't sure what she'd been expecting. She certainly hadn't wanted him to burst into tears or fling himself at the glass and pour out his soul and his love for his long-absent daughter. That would have been insane and out of both place and character. It would have been frightening.

_It also would have felt human, _she told herself. _More human than this. This is so surreal, all of it…what am I doing in this place? _

"There's something I need to ask you," she told him.

Nobu frowned, then nodded once. "Ah. So. You have come for answers. Very well, you deserve your answers. Nothing could be more fair. I will tell you anything you wish to know. Ask me."

_Too little, too late, _thought Hiro. She knew what he was telling her, and knew what he was waiting for, but that wasn't why she'd come. _You had your chance to give me answers. You had your chance to tell me the truth. Now's not the time. I'm not your confessor. Sorry. _

"There's a drug that the kids have been using on campus," she began, "called M-Path. It's a new drug, but it's causing some real problems. Some of my friends have started taking it, and they're getting really sick. I need to know if you know anything about it. I want to stop people using it and get it off the streets. What can you tell me about that?"

Nobu's expression changed very slightly, betraying just a hint of surprise. "Ah," he muttered.

_Hah, _thought Hiro, with unexpected satisfaction. _You definitely weren't expecting me to say that, were you? Caught you off your guard this time. _

"M-Path…" Nobu frowned, scratching his lip with one finger as he thought.

Hiro waited. She knew better than to press her father. With him, it was always a question of patience, and of proving to him that she was capable of that sort of quiet patience which was the only real form of plea he'd responded to since her birth.

After several moments had elapsed, Nobu almost smiled.

"Yes," he murmured. "I've heard of M-Path."


	28. Chapter Eleven: Supply and Demand

**Author's Note: **Just a short one this evening, to finish up this section. In the next few days, we will FINALLY begin actually exploring the dungeon, and we'll get our next crucial party member! You've been very patient, I promise things will get more action packed and exciting soon. :)

**Chapter Eleven: Supply and Demand**

As soon as he said that, the very first thought that ran through Hiro's mind was an unwelcome one. _Did you sell it? _She wondered. _Or trade it, or…or do whatever it is you did with drugs? Were you a part of the problem? Are you the reason this is happening to me?_

Asking that, however, wouldn't have done any good, and she knew it. Whatever had happened in the past, and whatever her father had been involved in, it obviously wasn't having any genuine affect on what Hiro and her friends were facing now.

"Tell me," she said instead. "What do you know?"

"It's a street drug," said Father. "Mood altering. Very popular with kids."

Hiro bit her lip in frustration. Before she had a chance to stop herself, she muttered, "I'm not a kid."

"Never said you were," countered Father. "We aren't talking about you. You're not taking the stuff, are you?"

For just a moment, there was that low-toned hint of command in his voice, the tone that since childhood had made Hiro fear some sort of retribution, physical or otherwise. That retribution never came, but the look was enough. When Father gave her the look, he meant business. It might as well have been a whip or a belt.

"Of course not," she mumbled, trying not to sound like the child that she was so anxious not to be. _After all, _she reminded herself, _of the two of us, who has the upper hand, here? I'm not the one behind bars, he is. The ball's in my court. Not his. _

Father's face relaxed slightly. "Good," he said. Hiro simmered.

"How does it work?" she asked.

That time, Father shrugged. It was a massive, impressive shrug, larger than his frame. It was the shrug of a man who was suffering from the feeling of phantom muscles. "No idea," he informed her. "That's not my department. Just stay away from it. Highly addictive, that's why it's such an easy sell."

_I hate hearing you talk like this, _she thought. _Buying and selling, and…those aren't the things I want to hear you say. We never talked about not doing drugs at home. It wasn't something you ever gave me a hard time about, but I always thought…I just sort of…ugh. Well, that's what I came here for, isn't it? To talk like this? Man up, Hiro. _

"I can't stay away from it," she insisted. "I told you, I have friends who are getting hurt. I want to know how to stop it, how to get it off the streets. I want to find out who's selling it and how to get rid of them. Can you help me with that?"

Unexpectedly, Father laughed. He laughed loudly for several seconds, while Hiro watched him uncertainly, trying to resist the urge to smile at a sudden, creeping and uninvited sense of familiarity.

"That's my girl," he muttered eventually, grinning fiercely at her. "Can't keep her hands out of anything…never could. There you go, off to save the world. Couldn't stop you even if my hands weren't tied. Good for you, Hiromi. Good for you."

He pressed one big hand up against the glass, and something lumpy and uncomfortable caught in Hiro's throat as she watched the impression that his palm made on the pane as he pulled it away.

"Supply and demand," said Father. "It's about supply and demand. You're trying to find out who's selling the drug? You'll have to force him out into the open."

Hiro nodded, forcing herself to focus. "And how do I do that?" she asked.

Father frowned. "The more people who want the stuff, the more demand the seller's going to need to meet. He'll have to show himself more and more to make sure that his buyers can find him. Once you've got him working overtime just to meet the needs, you'll be able to pin him down."

"But...no, I can't do that. You don't understand," muttered Hiro. "I'm trying to make people use the drug less, not make it more popular. I don't want more people using it. There has to be another way."

Again, Father shrugged. "I told you what I know." he said. "You'll do what you want to do anyway. You always do."

Hiro opened her mouth to protest, or to ask for something more, but one of the guards spoke up and interrupted.

"Time's up," he told them both. "Come on, Mr. Endo. Let's go."

Hiro was surprised that her father didn't struggle or try to shake the guards off as they marched him back towards the door and out of the room. _Maybe, _she thought, _he can't. Maybe he's even weaker than he looks, or…or maybe he's tried it before. Maybe they beat him when he struggles, or lock him up without food. Maybe they…maybe I shouldn't think about this._

Just before he disappeared, presumably back into his cell, Father turned around and gave Hiro a look. It wasn't a longing look, or a desperate look, but instead it was a serious and very knowing look. He looked at her as though he was about to force some sort of admission or promise out of her, and Hiro wasn't even sure what she was supposed to be promising to do.

Then, Sybil's voice spoke up in Hiro's mind. This time, she was almost ready for it, and managed not to let her face change too much as the words rippled through her head.

_I am thou, and thou art I, _said Sybil. _Thou hast established a new bond. Thou shalt be blessed when calling upon the power of the Emperor arcana. _

"Goodbye, Father," she said, although she knew that he probably couldn't hear her anymore, far away from the window as he was. Then he and the guards were both gone.

There were a lot of thoughts trying to claw their way to the forefront of Hiro's mind. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and forced herself to stop thinking.

_Supply and demand, _she told herself, when she felt her mind was ready for work again. _I don't know, but it's better than nothing._

Then she prepared her face, squared her shoulders, and walked out of the room and back to where Masaru and Momoko were still waiting for her.

Masaru stood up as soon as he saw Hiro come through the door. He had an anxious look on his face that Hiro didn't care for. She looked at Momoko instead.

"All done," said Hiro. "We can go, now. I'm sorry you had to wait so long."

"Did you see him?" asked Masaru. "Is he…how's he doing?"

Hiro fastened a withering look on him. "He's doing about as well as any prison inmate, thank you," she informed Masaru, raising an eyebrow. Masaru's ears turned pink, and he dropped his eyes away from her.

"Um…so, did you learn anything?" asked Momoko. "About M-Path? What did he say?"

"Supply and demand," mumbled Hiro.

"Huh?" Masaru frowned. "Sorry, what about supply, and-?"

Hiro sighed. "Let's talk about it when we get back to school," she suggested. "I think I'm done with this place. Come on, let's…just get out of here."

Momoko's stomach made an insistent growling noise. "I'm hungry," she announced unnecessarily. "Can we get lunch? Please?"

Masaru checked his watch. "Sorry, Mo-chan," he told her. "Train's in ten minutes, so we don't have time. Tell you what, I'll buy you both some ramen on the way home from the station, okay?"

Momoko beamed at him.

Throughout the whole train ride back to school, Hiro felt strange. There was a strange sort of disconnected feeling running through her as she watched Masaru and Momoko joking and chatting together, talking about their favorite flavors of ramen and their ideas about Masaru's princely makeup for the play. Stepping out of that gloomy, miserable prison and into the sunlight of a careless world, Hiro wasn't clear on how she was supposed to feel. She didn't feel anything, really, which was part of what was making her so uncomfortable. Sadness was a feeling, and so was loneliness. Both of those feelings would have been appropriate right now. Even "carefree" was a kind of feeling, a kind of happy, unhampered feeling that was stamped all over the faces of her two friends.

_But I feel nothing, _she thought. It felt, or rather didn't feel horrible.


	29. Chapter Twelve: The Unseen Enemy

**Author's Note: **Sorry guys, another short one. I've got one of those killer headaches again. Maybe I'll be able to update again tonight after I try sleeping this off…

**Chapter Twelve: The Unseen Enemy **

As soon as they were back in the dorm, Hiro headed for the stairwell.

"Hey," asked Masaru, "what's up? I thought we were gonna talk about supply and demand. Wait, and don't you need to go see Mr. Honda about the-?"

"Later," muttered Hiro. "There's something I want to take care of first. I'll see you two at dinner."

Without waiting for a reply, she climbed to the third floor, and soon found herself staring into the darkness of the shadow room, watching the occasional flash of color-changing lights.

"Persona," she whispered. There was a little painless twinge inside of her, and then Sybil was also standing in the doorway, each of her masked faces staring blankly ahead into the abyss beyond.

"Okay," said Hiro, taking a deep breath. "Ready to get some answers?"

Sybil didn't say anything. Slowly, one of her faces turned to gaze down at Hiro, and Hiro felt a chill run down her spine as she knew, rather than felt that somehow Sybil was watching her through the fabric of the mask, or maybe without any eyes at all, but with some sort of deeper and darker consciousness that had forged an unseen bond between them.

Together, they stepped into the room, and began making their way hesitantly and carefully across the floor. Every few minutes another flash of light lit up the surroundings, illuminating the walls and the floor, and allowing for the occasional sight of shadows flitting and drifting in and around where Hiro and Sybil stood. Hiro strained to keep her eyes on the shadows, but as soon as the lights flickered out she and Sybil were plunged back into darkness, and she couldn't track the shadows any more. That made her nervous. It was difficult to be prepared for combat with an unseen enemy.

"You probably can't see anything with all those masks on," she muttered to Sybil, really speaking just to hear herself, trying to keep from panicking in the silence and darkness. "Maybe if you took at least one of them off, then you'd be able to keep a lookout for us…"

Suddenly, something alarming and slimy brushed past Hiro's shoulder, and almost instantly it had its teeth, claws, or something foul and sharp sunk into her shoulder. She bit down hard and winced in pain, then rasped out "Agi!" and sucked in a breath of relief as the blast of fire from Sybil's eyes reduced the marauding shadow to a pile of dust. Then she waited for a moment, letting her heartbeat slow down.

"Okay, fair enough," she murmured. "Even with your masks on, you're a lot of help in a fight. Maybe I shouldn't complain."

Of course, Sybil didn't say anything. _She only seems to ever talk in my head anymore, _reflected Hiro.

A burst of blue light lit up the room, and then almost immediately vanished, leaving Hiro in darkness. She stood there, blinking and trying to let her eyes readjust. Something, presumably another shadow, took the opportunity to rake its claws across Hiro's leg.

This time, she was quicker. Before she'd had a chance to even think about a battle strategy, she was calling out "Bufu!" Again, the blue light flashed through the room, briefly illuminating what appeared to be a barrage of tiny ice bullets that were pelting out of Sybil's eyes and bombarding the sinking, dissolving shadow.

"How did you do that?" Hiro asked, as the darkness engulfed them again. "You couldn't do that yesterday. What does 'bufu' even mean?"

Sybil remained stoically silent. Hiro sighed in exasperation. They kept walking.

Eventually, they did reach the glowing blue door, and Hiro threw it open, hurrying herself and Sybil inside and then slamming it shut behind her. There were bleeding gashes on her leg and shoulder where the shadows had left their marks, and she was doing her best not to think about the pain and the oozing, uncomfortable feeling of the blood as it flowed.

"Welcome," intoned Igor, "to the Velvet Room."

Daniel was eyeing Hiro's wounds. "Those look like they hurt," he told her, without too much sympathy in his voice. "Ouch."

Hiro gritted her teeth. "It's hard to fight when I can't even see what I'm doing!" she snarled. "Isn't there some way to just…I don't know, turn the lights on in here? For good, I mean? What's with all the flashing lights and the crazy colors? That doesn't help much."

Igor, as usual, gave her an inscrutable look. "All will be revealed in time…illuminated, if you will," he said, chuckling. Hiro wanted to strangle him. Her shoulder was burning, now. _I shouldn't have run off like that, _she admonished herself. _I should have brought Momoko, because she has healing powers, apparently. Now who's the stupid one, huh?_

"You've come to ask a question," murmured Igor. "In what way can we assist our guest today?"

Instead of answering Igor, Hiro turned and addressed herself to Daniel, who thus far at least had proven the more likely of the two to give her a straight answer. "What's going on in my head?" she demanded. "I keep hearing voices…Sybil's voice, I think, talking about bonds and powers. It's like every time I talk to someone, there's some new crap about 'bonds.' Why? Why is that happening? What am I supposed to do about it? It's driving me insane."

Daniel gave her a malicious little grin. "People who hear voices in their heads are usually insane already," he reminded her.

"That's what I mean!" Hiro was trying not to get hysterical. "People are starting to think I'm crazy. I'm not crazy! Um. Wait, am I crazy?"

Shrugging, Daniel turned away from her. "Don't ask me, that's not my business," he mumbled. "Anyway, the voices don't make you crazy. It's because you're the Wild Card. You'll have to get used to it, it's gonna keep happening."

"Enough, Daniel," commanded Igor. It wasn't a loud command or even a particularly aggressive one, but Daniel fell instantly silent, looking slightly ashamed. For just that one moment, Igor reminded Hiro of her father, in the way that he managed to threaten and demand respect with nothing but a carefully crafted tone of voice. She was inadvertently impressed.

"The voice that you hear," continued Igor, "is apprising you of the gains you are making in power and purpose as the bonds you have with others form and strengthen. Perhaps you will remember that we spoke once before about the importance of bonds."

Hiro nodded. Now that she thought about it, she was sure that he had said something, just in passing, about the way her persona was affected by bonds. "But tell me again anyway," she insisted. "Just so I'm clear on what's happening."

"Your persona," Igor informed her, "is strengthened by bonds, or the ties and relationships that you form with others. The deeper your bonds and the stronger your connections, the more powerful your persona may become." He smiled, then, and it was a strange, fascinated smile, as though he'd just discovered a brand new and previously undiscovered beetle that he was adding to a prominent collection. Hiro felt a little shiver run down her spine as she watched the look on his face.

"Ah, but in your case," he continued, "the bonds have another significance as well. Yours is the power of the Wild Card, and yet, as I have said before, only one persona remains available to you. It seems, unless I am woefully mistaken, that each bond you form and each arcana you therefore unlock is the key to developing a new power…or rather, of assimilating the powers that lie locked away in the heart and mind of another person with whom you have forged a connection. You may have noticed already that the more you interact with the world around you, the more you find your persona able to accomplish in battle."

Hiro thought about the new attacks that Sybil had been recently able to perform, and specifically about the way that Sybil had suddenly been able to shoot fire from her eyes only a very short time after Hiro had first heard her voice inside her head. When Sybil's eyes had filled with fire, and Hiro had found herself unexpectedly familiar with the "agi" command, she remembered looking up at the revelation of Sybil's face and recognizing something in Sybil's eyes that reminded her uncannily of Masaru.

"I think I understand," she said, nodding slowly.

Igor beamed at her. "Excellent," he said.

Hiro bit her lip. "So…then, I am the Wild Card. I am the person you were looking for. You're sure that you're not wrong about this."

Igor inclined his head slightly. "There was never any significant doubt," he murmured.

"Damn," whispered Hiro.

Daniel snorted out a laugh. "Lucky you," he said.

Almost an hour later, Hiro hauled herself, still bleeding, back into her own bedroom. She had hoped to catch Momoko and to beg for some of that healing that Momoko's persona seemed to be capable of, but Momoko had been out when Hiro had opened the door to her room. Presumably, Momoko and Masaru were waiting for Hiro in the dining hall, but Hiro knew that she couldn't show up with bloody cuts all over her.

She managed to locate a few bandages, and spent some time soaking and patching up the wounds as best she could. _I'm never going in there alone again, _she decided. _None of us should. Maybe it was only a few bumps and bruises this time, but that was probably luck. It could have been worse. If only there were some way to actually see the enemy, then maybe we'd stand a better chance! I'm sure I'll have to talk to those two again. I'll have more questions. I'll probably have lots more. _

Having cleaned herself up for the most part, Hiro was about to head over to the dining hall to meet her friends when she remembered that she wasn't wearing her makeup. Throwing her hoodie on, she pulled the hood as far down over her face, mussed her hair up a bit to help complete the illusion, then prepared to take on the real world.


	30. Chapter Thirteen: Something Special

**Author's Note: **Huzzah, today is going to be a writing day! Oh, and I get to introduce one of my favorite characters in this chapter, too! I'm excited.

**Chapter Thirteen: Something Special**

"Hiro-san!" called Momoko, waving enthusiastically as Hiro walked into the dining hall. "You have to stop disappearing all mysterious like that!"

"Sorry," muttered Hiro. "I guess I am sort of making a habit of it, huh? It's…just been a very strange week."

Masaru nodded, and slid a plate of fried rice across the table to her. "Yeah, tell me about it," he agreed. "Where'd you go, anyway?"

In between mouthfuls of dinner, Hiro explained. She told them about what Igor and Daniel had said about bonds, and she pretended not to notice when Masaru and Momoko gave each other a dubious glance as soon as she mentioned the voices in her head.

"You're bleeding!" interrupted Momoko, just as Hiro began to explain about the nature of the "wild card," whatever that was. Glancing down at her leg, Hiro realized that the bandage had slipped off and that the wound was now oozing again.

"Yeah, sorry about that," she mumbled. "Um, I'll go and get a new bandage."

She started to stand up, but Momoko shook her head. "Person-" she began. Instantly, Masaru reached over and clapped a hand across Momoko's mouth, gagging her before she could complete the command.

"What? What are you doing?" he demanded frantically. "You can't do that here, we're in public! People will freak out!"

"You're the only one freaking out," observed Momoko calmly, as Masaru removed his hand. "Anyway, she's bleeding, so she needs Pandora!"

"Thank you," said Hiro, "but most people get by with a bandage when they're injured. I think I'll be fine."

Momoko put her hands on her hips and "tsked" at both of them. "You don't know that!" she reminded Hiro. "It could be poison. Shadows could have poison, we don't know! You need healing, right now. Come on! We're going back to the dorm."

While Masaru and Hiro both wolfed down as much fried rice as they could in the few available seconds, Momoko stood up and reached for them, dragging them both to their feet and hauling them across the floor towards the dining hall entrance. Masaru shrugged helplessly at Hiro. Hiro tried not to smile.

"Thanks, Momoko," she said.

"Don't mention it!" chirped Momoko, still vigorously tugging on both of their arms.

When they were almost to the door, however, something happened. A small boy with dimples and a terrible blond haircut wandered over to them. Glancing back over his shoulder twice to make sure that no one was watching, he thrust a wad of money at Hiro. She stopped in her tracks and stared at it, confused.

"It's for the stuff," the boy informed her. "You know, last week. You said I had until today to pay, so I'm glad I found you. I was starting to worry, 'cause…"

Suddenly, the boy stopped, blinked, opened his mouth and then closed it again. Hiro continued to stare at him uncertainly, until the boy's face turned red, then white, and he began to stammer unhappily.

"Uh, uh, n-nevermind. S-sorry, I think I…uh, just forget it, okay? My bad!" He turned on his heel and ran off, back into a crowd of people. Hiro and Masaru stared at each other.

"What was that all about?" asked Masaru unnecessarily.

Hiro sighed. "You don't really expect me to answer that, do you?" she asked. "Nothing makes any sense lately."

"Come on!" insisted Momoko peevishly. "Let's go already!" The blood had now run all the way down Hiro's leg, and was leaving a little droplet trail on the floor. Hiro gave in. They went back to the dorm together.

As soon as they were back in Momoko's room, she summoned her persona. Hiro stood very still as Pandora's cool hands pressed against the wounds on her leg and on her shoulder, and then closed her eyes and breathed out in relief as whatever healing power Pandora contained closed and soothed the wounds away.

"You're right," commented Masaru, as Pandora returned into Momoko again. "It's way too dangerous for any of us to go in to that place alone. Let's make a deal, right now. Nobody and that includes you, Hiro, goes in to that room or anywhere near those shadows by themselves. We're a team, right? So, let's act like a team. All for one and one for…whatever."

"'Whatever' is right," agreed Hiro with a sigh. "But yeah, that sounds good. Thanks, both of you. I think I would feel better if I didn't have to be on my own in there."

"Those lights are very pretty," murmured Momoko," but I wish they'd stop flashing so much. If they didn't flash but just stayed pretty all the time, we could see the shadows, and then POW!" She made a punching gesture and subsequently smacked Masaru in the shoulder. He winced and glared at her. She continued to stare innocently past him at the wall.

"So," asked Masaru, rubbing at his shoulder. "You guys ready to get some homework done? Ugh, wait, I take that back, you want to help me run lines, instead? It would be a huge help, not gonna lie. Looks like I, uh, have a lot of lines. I've never had this many before…"

Hiro frowned. Masaru's talk about lines had reminded her of the fact that she still hadn't actually made a decision about the Assistant Director job.

"Oh." Masaru frowned. "Wait, sorry…that was uh…no, listen, Hiro, I wasn't trying to rub it in your face or anything. I really wasn't. We can do lines another day, let's just do homework for now. We've got plenty from Miss Maruyama, so that might be a good place to start."

"No, it's okay," murmured Hiro, shaking her head. "I mean, I'd like to get some work done, but I think I have to go talk to Mr. Honda."

Momoko nodded knowingly. "That's right!" she agreed. "Oh, but you can't go yet. You're not wearing your makeup! Here, sit here."

Hiro sat obediently, and Momoko hurried to get her makeup kit.

Again, an hour or so later, Hiro left the dorm, and again she stalked across campus to the school building. The faculty offices, as far as she remembered, were on the first floor next to the girl's bathroom. Thinking of the girl's bathroom reminded her off the cruel little game she'd played with those girls who had been giving Momoko a hard time, and she wondered if they'd said anything to Momoko about it.

_Now that I think about it, _she reasoned, _I probably shouldn't have done that. What if being friends with me makes Momoko a pariah? Then again, it's not like anyone will believe them if they say they've seen me. Pretty much no one else on campus has actually "seen" me since I got here, so as far as everyone knows…_

She was so lost in those reflections that she completely lost interest in her search for the faculty offices. Distracted by her internal revelations, Hiro was shocked when a pair of hands suddenly clamped down on her shoulders, and she came very close to slugging whoever it was in the face.

"Whoa, sorry, I'm sorry!' protested the man who had her by the shoulders, stepping back out of assault range. "Of course, you don't know me. Please, I wasn't trying to startle you. I didn't realize that you didn't see me. Hah, I'm not built for combat, you can put the bag down…"

Belatedly, Hiro realized that she was hefting her heavy, packed duffle bag over her shoulder, and she instantly dropped it to the ground. The man in front of her was pretty obviously a teacher, or at least an adult, and she knew there would be serious consequences if she hit him. He wasn't anybody whom she'd seen before, although she thought she might have heard his voice in the hallways or coming out of classrooms as she'd walked by. He had sandy hair, graying slightly at the temples, and an alarmingly youthful face that somehow defied its own wrinkles to give her the impression that she was talking to a much younger man. It must, she decided, have been the eyes. He had wonderful dark eyes, large and questioning that seemed to look right through her, exciting and disturbing her at the same time.

_Ah, _she thought. _I'd bet any money that this one's an actor. _

"I'm Yuuto Honda," he told her. "You're Kotone-chan…aren't you?" He gave her a sheepish little smile, and Hiro found herself fighting not to smile back. "I'm sorry, it's just, that I've been looking all over for you. You see, tomorrow night is the readthrough, and so I was hoping that you'd have an answer for me about being my assistant director. I'd be really happy if you'd say yes. Really, I would."

Hiro blinked at him. "You're…not the same teacher who was at the auditions, Mr. Honda," she told him.

"Oh?" Honda laughed. "Well, yes and no, really. I was at the auditions, but I guess you didn't see me there. I was in the audience, making notes. Mr. Aiba very nicely offered to actually manage the students and handle the readings for me, so that I could pay closer attention."

Hiro was a little embarrassed. "Oh, um, of course, sir," she murmured. "I'm sorry."

Honda shook his head. "It's fine," he insisted. "Really, this sort of thing happens all the time." Again, he laughed, and again Hiro wanted to laugh with him. _He doesn't act like a teacher at all, _she thought. _No wonder he had to have someone else help him with the auditions. It's not like this guy screams "authority figure" or anything. _

"So," asked Honda hopefully. "Do you…have an answer for me, Hiro?"

Hiro frowned. "May I ask a question?"

Honda nodded hurriedly. "Of course! Of course, ask away."

"Well, sir," began Hiro carefully. "I'm not really sure why you chose me to be the assistant director. I don't have any experience working in the theater, and I've never directed anything in my life, before. Why did you choose me?"

"Ahh, yes," murmured Honda thoughtfully. "That's a reasonable question."

He stood back for a moment and gazed at her, until a dreamy sort of look came over his face and he bit his lip, cocking his head to one side as he stared at her. Hiro began to get a bit uncomfortable, but found that she couldn't tear her eyes away from his, even if she couldn't read the expression in them. Then his face broke into a smile, and he shook his head, shrugging at her. "I don't know," he admitted. "It's just…there's something about you, really. I feel as though you and I are destined for great things. Does that makes sense? No, wait, it doesn't have to make sense. Sometimes that's just the way art is. You have to feel it, even if you can't understand it."

_Feel it, huh? _Thought Hiro. _Honestly, there has been entirely too much of this "feeling" stuff lately. Maybe I've had enough of trying to feel my way through life. _

"So?" he asked again. "What's it going to be? If you're going to disappoint me, then let me down easy, okay?"

Hiro wanted to tell him that she wasn't going to do it. She wanted to tell him that she wasn't special in any way, and more importantly that she didn't want anything to do with being special.

Instead, she heard herself tell him, "Yes, I'll do it. Thank you for the opportunity, Mr. Honda."

_Wow, _she realized. _This guy is pretty good. Maybe I could learn a thing or two from him after all. Special, huh? _

Mr. Honda closed his eyes, and clasped his hands together. Then he reached forward again, grasped both of Hiro's hands, and gripped them tightly in his, staring at her with passion and exuberance in his eyes.

"This is going to be a magnificent show, Hiro," he informed her, like he meant it. "It's going to be a masterwork, a triumph, even! You and I are going to do great things together. You won't regret this!"

Then, releasing her hands, he turned on his heel and took off, in the opposite direction from the faculty offices. Hiro stood there, confused and unexpectedly thrilled. Some of Mr. Honda's attitude was apparently infectious. Suddenly, Hiro was really looking forward to working on this show.

_I am thou, and thou art I, _said Sybil. _Thou hast established a new bond. Thou shalt be blessed when calling upon the power of the Moon arcana. _

Hiro ignored her. She wasn't thinking about bonds and powers, anyway. She was thinking about great things, and theatrical triumphs instead.


	31. Chapter Fourteen: One of My Kind

**Author's Note: **Short one today, although I've got another one half-finished, so bear with me. I just got some excellent employment news, so I'm going to go out and celebrate…but when I come back, I will definitely write more story. Thank you for your patience!

Er, sorry, this chapter has been giving me some trouble. I'm sorry if it's not very good. I will likely be rewriting it in the future, but for today, let's move the story along…

**Chapter Fourteen: One of My Kind**

Eventually, having completed all her day's missions, Hiro wandered back to the dorm. As she walked around back of the school building, she kept an eye out for the mysterious hoodie-wearing kid who supposedly hung out under the awning and sold M-Path to the students after dark. Unfortunately, it wasn't that long after dark. In fact, it was barely even eight o'clock.

_One of these days, _she thought, _we'll have to come back late at night, and maybe stake this place out. That is, unless what Dad said actually works. Unless we find some way to use M-Path against the dealers. _

Momoko and Masaru were sitting on the sofa, running Masaru's lines when Hiro arrived.

"I'll save you from a cruel and horrid fate!" shouted Masaru, jumping to his feet and brandishing an imaginary sword in Hiro's direction. "No dragon shall stand in my way!"

Hiro blinked. "Wait, am I the dragon?" she asked.

Masaru grinned at her. "I sure hope not," he said. "Like you really need to get any scarier. I don't think I'd want to face you for any princess, sword or no sword."

Hiro rolled her eyes. Sitting down next to Masaru, she glanced over a page of the script.

"Wow," she remarked. "These lines are terrible. Are you really supposed to say 'unhand me, you fiend?'"

Masaru deflated very slightly. "Uh…yeah, looks like it," he mumbled. "Still, it's a great opportunity. It doesn't really matter how the lines are written. What's important is how I say them. If I can get the tones of voice and the expression right, nobody'll notice how stilted the lines are. Right, Mo-chan?"

Momoko frowned at the script. "If you say so…uh, yeah!"

While her two friends continued to read through the lines, Hiro let her eyes wander around the room. Since she'd arrived at school, she hadn't actually spent much time in the dorm, or at least in the parts of it that actually existed on this plane of reality.

_I wonder if there's a bathroom on this floor, _she thought. _That might be a good idea, actually figuring out where all the bathrooms are. That's important information. Emergencies happen. _

Then, Hiro noticed something unusual lying on the table that held the sign-in and sign-out charts. It was a book, and it didn't look from where Hiro was sitting like any of the textbooks that she and the others carried around for class. Out of curiosity, she stood up and walked over to examine it closer. It turned out to be a romance novel.

"Hey, Momoko," called Hiro, holding up the book. "Is this yours?"

Momoko glanced over at it. "Nope!" she asserted.

Hiro frowned. "Has Manami been here, then?" she asked. She couldn't imagine either Ren or Kazoue owning a book like that, and it did look just like the one that Hiro had seen Manami carrying around. Ever since finding out about the casting, Hiro had wanted to take the opportunity to congratulate Manami on the role. _Just, you know, so it's clear that there are no hard feelings, _she reminded herself.

Masaru shook his head. "Nah, Manami works late on Mondays. You know, at the library. Hey maybe we should go by later and say hello! I bet she gets pretty bored, alone in there with nothing but books and more books around…"

_So, then what's this doing here? _wondered Hiro.

"Hey, Hiro," asked Masaru. "We need a third person in this scene; will you read for the dragon? Please?"

Hiro raised an eyebrow. "The dragon has lines? Really?"

"Mostly roaring," clarified Momoko. "Like this: RAAWWRRR!"

Hiro and Masaru both winced as Momoko did her best impression of an angry dragon roar. Masaru cleared his throat. "Okay," he said. "New plan. Mo-chan, you read for the dragon. Hiro, you can read the princess's lines."

It was a pretty engrossing activity, even if the script wasn't very good. Hiro wasn't sure how much time had elapsed when they finally got to the last page of the script. She was just about to adopt her girliest voice, and to say her first line on the page when she heard a muffled sort of masculine bellow from somewhere behind her.

"Wow, Mo-chan," remarked Masaru. "That was pretty impressive. Didn't sound like a dragon, though…more like somebody getting eaten by a dragon. Still, not bad, maybe if you just-!"

"That wasn't me," interrupted Momoko. "Someone is shouting upstairs! Um, I think."

Hiro and Masaru looked at each other. Then they both looked at Momoko.

"Huh? What?" asked Momoko, blinking back and forth between them.

Masaru bit his lip. "Seriously" he asked. "No way…there is just no way."

Hiro did not waste any more time. Dropping the script, she legged it as fast as she could over to the stairwell, and thundered up the steps towards the second floor hallway. Momoko and Masaru didn't take too long to follow suit.

"A bookshelf probably fell on him, or something!" panted Masaru as he chased Hiro toward the door to Ren's room. "That's all he's got in there anyway, right? Books! Serves him right for acting like such an ass, most of the time!"

Hiro threw the door open, and saw pretty much what she expected to see.

Masaru sighed. "Or not," he mumbled. "Fine."

Ren was lying on the floor, sprawled out on his stomach with his fingers buried in his hair as he half-screamed and half-moaned to himself. Lying next to him on the ground was a small collection of romance novels, some of which Hiro identified as the same ones that she'd seen Manami reading over the course of the last few days. A few feet away from them, over against the wall was the telltale M-Path envelope, open at one end.

"Get away from me," gasped Ren. "Get out, get of here, all of you! Aaagh!" He writhed, swinging his legs around and curling up into the fetal position. He looked as though he were in horrible pain, and was probably doing his best to fight whatever feelings were attempting to overcome his usually so calm and disinterested demeanor. Hiro almost felt sorry for him. He looked so miserable.

"Senpai!" cried Momoko, rushing over to his side. She bent down next to him on the ground, but he rolled away from her, still clutching his head.

"I said," he managed breathlessly, "to leave me be..."

Something, Hiro realized, was wrong. That is, it was more wrong that it would usually be, in a circumstance like this. There were veins beginning to stand out in Ren's temples, and, as Hiro watched, his hands clenched slowly into fists, which he used to propel himself up off the floor.

"Momoko," muttered Hiro, "Do what he says."

Momoko looked surprised. "Huh?" she asked. "But, he's hurt! We have to help him, he's-!"

"Get away from him, now!' shouted Hiro.

Unfortunately, Momoko wasn't fast enough. Before she had a chance to hurry out of the way, Ren reached out and grabbed her by both arms, pulling her towards him and snarling into her face. For once, Momoko looked genuinely frightened.

"All I seek here is solitude," hissed Ren, so to Momoko that she had to turn her face away to avoid his angry, hot breath on her face. "All I seek is peace, to be left alone, to be undisturbed."

"Hey," shouted Masaru, "let her go! What the hell is your problem?" He stepped forward, but this time Hiro was quicker. She grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back, shaking her head at him. Masaru subsided, unwillingly.

"Senpai," said Hiro quietly. "We're sorry. We heard you shouting and we thought that you needed help. We didn't mean to bother you. We'll leave, if that's what you want."

"What?" Masaru stared at Hiro, his eyes wide. "We will? But we can't do that, if we go, he'll-!"

Hiro stepped on Masaru's foot. "Shut up," she hissed. "I know!"

Ren's head snapped suddenly around to glare at Hiro, and in the process he lost interest in Momoko, dropping her arms and turning on the other two. "You see?" he asked. "You see? Even in the midst of what is, according to you, an act of rescue and of succor, you whisper and prate about me behind my back. Do you think I don't know? Do you think that I don't realize what you are? What all of your kind are?"

"My kind?" asked Hiro, genuinely puzzled. "I don't understand."

"Women," snarled Ren, and he managed to put so much bitter vitriol into the one word that Hiro felt herself involuntarily shudder. "Women, who seek to ensnare men, to trap them into false hopes and into trusting, despicably loving docility…only to turn on them at the worst moments, to strike at their weakest, softest points the moment they are feeling secure in themselves. I have seen the way you carry on, the way you whisper behind backs and laugh as soon as your victim is facing in the opposite direction."

"Uh, but," began Masaru, "I'm a guy, right? So…hey, what if we get the girls out of here, and you and I talk about this, man to man, huh?"

For just a moment, Ren turned his disdainful stare on Masaru. "You can hardly call yourself a man," he retorted. "Your entire fruitless day is spent running around with women, doing their bidding and living in their shadows. Without them to buoy your spirits you would have nothing of your own…it's sickeningly obvious whenever I see the three of you together. Your presence is equally unwelcome, here. You might as well be one of them."

"Oh, wow," whispered Momoko, "That wasn't very nice at all…"

"Wha…hey, that's not…how could…HEY! What do you mean, I'm not a real man? What the hell is that-?" Masaru babbled lividly, his face reddening.

"I am happier here alone," interrupted Ren, apparently not listening at all to Masaru's angry protests. "It is easier for me to work. I am unhindered by the complicated and convoluted plots that women create to destroy the little self esteem we have dared to build!"

"Senpai, please-!" began Hiro.

"Get out!" shouted Ren. Involuntarily, Hiro took a step back, stumbling into Masaru.

As Hiro's head swam, and Masaru muttered bitterly behind her, they both watched Ren's shadow begin to detach itself from his body. While he crumpled slowly to the ground, the shadow reared up and glared at them with vicious reproductions of his eyes.

"I am the bitterness," groaned the shadow, "and the injured pride. I am the cowardly rage. I am the shadow, born from the abyss that dwells within."

"Here it comes," announced Masaru, as Patroclus materialized in front of him. "Mo-chan, you ready?"

Momoko, too, had summoned her persona. Pandora gazed down at the shadow with what looked a bit like disappointment.

"Sybil," murmured Hiro. Sybil erupted into being, and instantly some of the panic that had been welling up in Hiro's soul began to subside.

The shadow gazed back and forth between the three potential targets. Hiro wasn't surprised when it settled finally on Momoko, and made its move.

"Momoko, look out!" she called, as the shadow lunged for her.


	32. Chapter Fifteen: After School Special

**Author's Note: **I apologize for the long wait on this chapter. I'm struggling a little bit with some of the elements of this story, but worry not, we shall overcome! Don't be too hard on me this time…this chapter, too, probably needs another few edits. I'll get right on it.

**Chapter Fifteen: After School Special**

Momoko shrieked in surprise as the shadow bore down upon her. Pandora, for all of her expertise at healing, apparently didn't have much in the way of defensive powers, because she looked frankly even more alarmed and bewildered than Momoko did as the shadow attacked.

"Sybil!' called Hiro, wracking the back of her mind for the best and most effective attack to use against Ren's rampaging shadow.

Luckily, Masaru was faster. In an instant, Patroclus had slammed the butt of his sword heavily into the shadow's chest, causing the shadow to bellow with rage and lurch backwards, away from Momoko. Momoko ran over to Hiro, whimpering slightly and clutching at a wound on her forearm.

"Ow," she whispered. "No fun…"

Hiro felt Sybil gazing at her, and looked up into the various masked faces of her persona. "Hama," she murmured, feeling the new power bubbling beneath the surface of her soul. Sybil nodded once, then turned and glanced at the shadow as her heads began to spin. This time, when she removed a mask, a beam of white-hot light showered out of her eyes and down on to the shadow.

"Wow," whispered Momoko. "That's…so pretty!"

Pretty, however, seemed to be all it was. When the light faded, the shadow appeared totally unharmed. "Damn," whispered Hiro, frustrated. "Um, Sybil, agi!"

"The pretty light didn't do anything," remarked Momoko, as flames from Sybil's eyes engulfed and burned away at the shadow.

"Thank you," muttered Hiro through gritted teeth. "I noticed." The shadow, although singed, was still on its feet, and it was looking far more furious than it had moments before. Sticking out one insubstantial leg, it tripped Patroclus, who was in the process of lunging forward again with his sword. With the persona out of the way temporarily, the shadow reached out for Masaru's face, and raked him just under the jaw.

"Hama!' called Momoko, and this time it was Pandora who released a ball of shimmering light.

"Momoko!' shouted Hiro. "We just tried that! It didn't-!"

This time, however, as soon as the light surrounded the shadow, the shadow screeched, and then dissolved into a pile of ash at Momoko's feet. She blinked at it in surprise for a moment, and then grinned.

"Yay!" she crowed, beaming at Hiro. "Got it! Momoko saves the day!"

"But…" Hiro was confused. "Why didn't it work when I tried it?"

Momoko shrugged. "Bad luck?" she hazarded. "Oh, Ren-senpai! You're awake!"

Ren was, in fact, beginning to stir and force himself back up on to his elbows again, now that the shadow had met its demise. Momoko rushed over to his side, although Hiro and Masaru instinctively kept their distance, staying just out of his range.

"Leave me alone," mumbled Ren, staring past Momoko at the puddle of shadow ash.

Momoko, quite predictably, ignored him. Hauling on his right arm, she forced him on to his feet, and then began fussing with his clothes, straightening them out and brushing bits of fuzz and lint off of them while murmuring comfortingly under her breath. Ren, with all the fight apparently knocked out of him, stood still and slightly bewildered under her ministrations.

"How are you feeling?" asked Hiro, unsure of what else to say.

Ren opened his mouth to answer her, but no sound came out. It took several moments before he appeared to find the words to answer the question. "It's…strange," he said eventually, pursing his lips. "I…seem to be having an alarming series of substance-induced hallucinations. That would, of course, explain the prevalence of this particular drug on campus except that the sensations I have been experience have been far from pleasant. They have been…quite disturbing, in fact. I shouldn't like to…" he paused, frowned, and then asked, in a much sharper tone of voice, "Wait…what exactly are you three doing in my bedroom?"

Masaru and Momoko exchanged a look.

"Honestly?" asked Masaru. "We heard you screaming, so we came running in to the room, only to have you yell some misogynistic crap at all three of us. Then, while we were trying to calm you down, you collapsed, some crazy shadow creature came out of you and tried to kill us, but we defeated it and now it's dead...and you have got some serious explaining to do."

"Ah," murmured Ren. "So it appears that none of that was a hallucination after all. That is instructive, but unfortunate."

Hiro was surprised. She turned to Masaru, who shrugged. "Sometimes," muttered Masaru, "you just gotta tell it like it is. He's a scientist, or a historian, or whatever, right? So, facts are his thing."

"Those things that I said to you," began Ren, squirming uncomfortably as he refused to meet their gazes. "They were not, I fear…politically correct."

_That's definitely one way of putting it, _thought Hiro. "Don't worry about that right now," she told him. "We can sort all that out later. What I want to know right now is why you thought it was a good idea to take M-Path in the first place. You're supposed to be smart, aren't you? Everyone on campus says that you're a very intelligent person. Manami was just singing your praises the other day. So…I sort of thought that you would have known better."

"Manami," whispered Ren thoughtfully. "And therein, I fear, likes the root of the problem."

"Ooh!" announced Momoko. "Is it because of Manami? I knew it! I knew you liked her, I knew it all along! I heard the girls talking about it in the locker room after volleyball practice the other day! That's soooo sweet!"

Ren gave Momoko a withering look, and backed one step away from her at the same time. "You…you were talking about it? About me? I…I do not have to explain myself to you. There is no reason why I should!"

Hiro shrugged. "Fine," she said. "But I don't think anyone else is going to listen. It's just like you said. If you tell anyone else about this, they'll probably just assume you were hallucinating. We're the only ones who'll believe you."

"I don't care if they believe me or not," snarled Ren. "It's of no importance. I am not interested in their opinions. Again, I ask you to leave me in peace!"

Hiro couldn't think of anything else to say. "Well, all right then," was all she managed. Masaru and Momoko appeared to be at a loss as well.

"I forbid you to tell anyone about this," announced Ren, as the other three began shuffling unhappily out of the room.

"Yeah, whatever," muttered Masaru. "Like Hiro said…it's not like anybody would believe us if we did."

"Bye, senpai!" said Momoko, looking a bit hurt. "Sorry we bothered you…"

Ren closed the door behind them, and Hiro listened for a moment to the sounds of his pacing back and forth behind the door of his room.

"So?" asked Masaru. "What now?"

"Now," replied Hiro, "we do nothing. I mean, we don't do anything differently. We saved him, after all. That's what we went in there, for. He probably won't take any M-Path again, so…our mission is accomplished."

"Go team," mumbled Masaru unconvincingly.

Hiro felt about as uncertain and disappointed as Masaru did, but there was nothing to be done about it. Just because Hiro and Masaru had poured out their souls and joined forces to become a team of crime-fighters didn't mean that everyone saved from M-Path would be forced to follow suit. She knew that she should be delighted by the triumph inherent in another victory, but this victory felt incomplete.

_It's not really saving people if they don't have some sort of epiphanic moment of self-discovery_ she told herself, sarcastically. _Wow, when did my life start turning into an after-school special? Who cares if he's learned the error of his ways? At least he won' take the damn drug anymore. _

Hiro, Masaru and Momoko spent some time on the couch in the entrance hall, trying to get through the rest of the script. Their hearts, however, weren't in it. Eventually, they said goodnight to each other and made their ways back to their own rooms.

"Oh well," mumbled Hiro to herself, as she closed her fingers around her own doorknob. "Can't win them all…" Pulling the door open, she strode inside, closed it behind her, and then shrieked.

"Please!" cried Ren, wincing and throwing out has hands. "There's no need for that."

Hiro stared. Ren was sitting crossed legged on the floor, next to her desk. She had no idea how he'd even gotten down here. If he'd come down the stairs and through the first floor, she knew that he'd have to have passed by her and the others in the middle of their play practice, and after all of the crazy things that happened to her lately, Hiro knew she was on edge enough to jump three feet in the air every time a pin dropped. There was no way he'd crept by her unnoticed.

"What are you doing in my room?" she demanded, clutching her duffle to her chest with both hands.

Ren gave her a wry little smile. "Returning the favor, apparently," he told her. "No, I believe…it is possible that I may have come to apologize."  
Hiro stared. Ren's ears went slightly pink. "That is," he muttered, "if you are in the mood to accept apologies. I confess that I…may have been unnecessarily harsh with you. I am unused to-!"

"Trust me," interrupted Hiro, shaking her head. "None of us are used to it. We're all pretty much taking shots in the dark, in terms of M-Path and these shadow things." She shook her head and sighed, dropping her bag to the ground. "Sure, why not. No harm done, I forgive you. "


	33. Chapter Sixteen: Self Restraint

**Author's Note: **This…did not go as well as I had planned. Still, it's better than it was the first and second time I tried writing it. Hopefully Ren is coming across well as a character. I'm very curious to hear what you think.

**Chapter Sixteen: Self Restraint**

"Ah," murmured Ren. "Well, good…I suppose that's all there is to be said about that, then."

_Not quite, _thought Hiro. "I'm curious, though," she told him. "Why all the romance novels? You never really struck me as the sappy love story type."

Ren winced. "There's really no reason to discuss that," he muttered. "My personal business is-!"

"Your personal business just unleashed a giant shadow monster on three innocent bystanders, who could have been killed," countered Hiro. "So, yeah, I'd like to know. Anyway, a real apology includes a solid explanation. I can't really forgive something I don't understand. Could you?"

"You…have a point," sighed Ren. "Let me state, however, for the record, that I am divulging this information under duress. You are not to relay the contents of this conversation to another living soul, is that perfectly clear?"

_First he apologizes, and now he's ordering me around again, _reflected Hiro. _Not exactly the best way to make friends. _"Sure, I already agreed to that," she said, shrugging. "Like I said before, who would I tell? What would I get out of ratting on you, anyway?"

"The motivations of women," mumbled Ren, "are mysterious and irrational."

"Yeah, you said that," Hiro reminded him, starting to get annoyed again. "But see, the funny thing about women is that they're also people, and people are individuals who make stupid choices for their own stupid, personal reasons. I don't know what women are supposed to do, but I know what I do, and I'm not a snitch. Are we done, now?"

Ren nodded slowly. "Ah, yes. We are. Sorry."

_This guy, _thought Hiro, _is a broken record. _

"You asked about the romance novels," continued Ren, looking a bit strained. "You…are acquainted with Manami Matsuoka, correct?"

"Right," agreed Hiro. "We've run into each other in the library a few times, remember?"

"Um, quite," muttered Ren. "Yes, well.." He paused and pursed his lips, apparently struggling a bit with whatever it was he was working up to. "Miss Matsuoka is…ah, well, she's a very relaxing person to be around. I find her company exceedingly pleasant."

Hiro took a moment to wrap her head around that. "So, you've got a crush on her," she translated.

Ren winced. "That is," he agreed, "certainly one way of putting it. However, I have never had particularly brilliant success with, ah, relations with the opposite sex. As a matter of fact, I am totally inexperienced in that department, and that creates a certain difficulty when it comes to attracting the attention of young women."

Hiro nodded understandingly. "It's okay," she assured him. "I've never had a boyfriend either. Never really had time for it, right? It's not a big deal, we're only in high school."

Ren shook his head. "I fear that it…maybe a little worse than that. You see," he muttered miserably, "I am…I have a certain phobia of women. That is, I fail to understand them, and a lack of understanding notoriously breeds trepidation. It is easy enough, of course, to confront Miss Matsuoka in the library, in the interest of higher learning and in the presence of her books, but…I have never managed to approach her outside of the library, unconnected to any academic pursuits. You…understand the difficulty, then."

"Yeah, I understand," said Hiro. "At least, I think I do. You like Manami, but you're having trouble talking to her. That's pretty much the same problem that almost every guy has when it comes to a pretty girl. I've got some advice, though, that may really help you out."

Ren leaned forward eagerly to listen. Hiro rolled her eyes.

"Try not freaking out on girls and yelling insults at them," she suggested dryly. "Girls don't tend to like that. It's not attractive. Actually, I'm pretty sure nobody, guy or girl, likes being shouted at."

Deflating slightly, Ren sighed. "Of course not," he agreed. "It is…perhaps a defensive response. I am uncomfortable, out of my depth, unable to comprehend the unknown…and so I react inappropriately and thus damage my own cause. This type of foolishness is a common human failing, and I fear that I am only human, in the end."

_I've heard of this kind of thing, _thought Hiro. _Guys at my old school used to talk all the time about how women were hard to understand…and I guess that I sort of get that. I mean, I never know what to do with makeup, and gossip about boys scares the hell out of me. Girls do seem to do a lot of that weird stuff. Still, this doesn't really seem normal. I mean, its' one thing to be confused by the things that girls do, but why be afraid of them? What's the worst that could really happen? _

"Well, don't worry too much about it," she told him. "Your secret's safe with me. Why the M-Path, though? That's still the part I don't understand."

"I had heard," continued Ren, "that the drug called M-Path might allow an individual to experience the emotions and sensations of another human being. It is for that reason that I obtained so many of those ridiculous works of nauseatingly romantic fiction. Miss Matsuoka seems enamored of them, and I know that the gentlemen within those books appeal to her very much. Perhaps, I thought, if I could only begin to understand what it is that the characters within those pages feel, then I might be able to make myself more presentable to her as a suitor."

"A suitor?" asked Hiro, raising an eyebrow. "Really?"

Ren looked surprised. "What? Is there something wrong with that?"

Hiro decided to let it go. _Okay, so he's a little creepy and kind of stiff, _she told herself. _But at the same time, there's something sweet about him, in a terrifically awkward way. _

"I suppose that I owe you, for being willing to listen to this explanation," Ren was saying. "I very rarely have the opportunity to unburden myself to a receptive audience. You have my gratitude. In the morning, I will extend my apologies to both of your friends, as well."

Hiro smiled. "Cool," she said. "No, you're welcome. I'm glad I got the chance to talk to you, just for a little bit."

Ren started to smile hesitantly back at her, when suddenly he winced, drew in a sharp breath, and grabbed at his chest.

"Senpai!" Hiro was on her feet in a second. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head, swallowed hard, and then relaxed again. Even as he did so, something began to take shape on the floor in front of him, until Hiro found herself staring into the quiet, calculating eyes of a huge, muscular man, with a flowing grey beard and a cloth wrapped around his waist and shoulders. There were chains around his wrists as well, and the chains seemed to be securing him to a large black rock that rose up monumentally behind him.

"What on earth-?" began Ren, shocked.

"I am Prometheus," rasped the chained man. "I am the purveyor of wisdom and the revealer of truth. It is my mission to show you safely to the dawning of your future."

Ren's eyes were fixed on Prometheus' face, and as the two gazed coolly at one another, Ren slowly shook his head.

"I don't' understand," he murmured. "I'm sorry."

Prometheus inclined his head once, and then faded away, leaving Ren standing and holding his chest with one hand.

"Remarkable," he murmured. "Unprecedented. I cannot…"

_I am thou, and thou art I, _intoned Sybil inside Hiro's mind. _Thou hast established a new bond. Thou shalt be blessed when calling upon the power of the Hermit arcana. _

"Did you see that as well?" asked Ren. "Is it a side effect of the drug? Perhaps it would be best if I attempted to sleep off the remaining effects. I cannot say I found them at all pleasant, which is strange considering the multiple first-hand accounts I received of the excellent experiences of others."

Hiro nodded. _Not a bad idea, _she decided. "Sure," she told him, "that's a good plan. I should get some sleep, too. Um, tell you what, though, why don't you come and have breakfast with Masaru and Momoko and I tomorrow? You said you wanted to apologize, so…"

After saying their brief goodbyes, she and Ren parted ways, agreeing to meet up the next day at the dining hall.

_Tomorrow, _she thought, _we'll tell him the truth, and we'll all go together to the third floor and show him that place with the shadows. I don't think there's much point in trying to go into that stuff right now. After all, I should be pretty happy. I got way more out of him than I ever expected to, and if I want him to join our cause, I'd better take this slowly. _

It wasn't too long before she fell asleep, and mercifully didn't dream at all.


End file.
